Toss of the Coin
by Brievel
Summary: What if circumstances had worked out just a little bit differently? Collection of one-shots set in the Star Wars universe, exploring the path events might have taken. All from the movies and/or The Clone Wars, no EU.
1. Introduction

After spending over a week reading Star Wars fanfic after Star Wars fanfic - everything from humorous one-shots to Inboxes to Five Things That Never Happened to slightly AU storylines to extended slightly AU storylines, I have found my own Star Wars muse flowing with inspiration. Credit where it is due, though - reading the stories of two authors is what inspired me the most: Derek Metaltron and TheMuleteer. You should really check out their stories, they are exceptional!


	2. I have a daughter

Something bothered Darth Vader, some niggling sense at the edge of his tattered soul, but surrounded by Moffs and Admirals and Captains and Stormtroopers, he couldn't get a handle on it. It was not until he was alone in the room with the captive, save for a pair of troopers guarding the door, that he could concentrate on the feeling vying for his attention. He concentrated, then stumbled back a step in shock - it was the presence of someone he knew all so well, but with a Force signature so much stronger... "Padme," he breathed, as low as his black breathmask would allow.

The defiant Princess jerked slightly in astonishment. "How did you..." she began, but stopped.

"Leave us," the Sith Lord ordered the troopers, who hastened to obey. He turned back to his captive, testing the Force, saying her name, drawing it out slowly. "Leia Organa..." She stared at him, saying nothing. He spoke again, as if to himself. "Yes, she was always close to Senator Organa of Alderaan...if she were dying, to whom would she entrust her child?" The lights in the detention cell flickered as a thought occurred to him. "He told me that she died by my hand! But Obi-Wan was there...if she were unconscious, not dead..." Pain enveloped his soul as he looked back at the astonished Senator. "Your mother's real name...it was...Padme...Amidala...was it not?"

The stare of shock and astonishment and fear she gave him was answer enough. "I have a daughter," he whispered. "Obi-Wan, my old mentor, that is why you left...to save my wife and child...and you hid her from me, all these years...yes, perhaps you were right...all this time, I have thought the Dark Side was all I had, never seeing my own child hiding in plain sight...but now, I have something else to live for..."

* * *

The Viceroy of Alderaan waited tensely as a menacing, familiar black-clad figure strode forward, another, equally known figure at his side. The Viceroy felt his heart rise into his mouth, but called upon his long years in the Senate to conceal his emotions as he bowed deeply to the newcomer. "My Lord Vader, to what do we owe the honor?"

Vader waved the guards away, a terse nod from their employer backing them away from the threesome several meters, and Vader turned his attention to Alderaan's ruler. "I have come to thank you," he rumbled, "for taking care of my daughter so well for so long." At the other man's shock and fear, tangible in the Force, he hurried on, "No, do not be afraid. You have done me a great service, one I cannot repay. I have brought her home to you, although, if I may, I would visit at times - my family was..." He hesitated, not wanting to show weakness - old habits die hard - and altered his words slightly - "always my first priority. But now, I have business with the Emperor." He turned away to return to the shuttle.

A split second's hesitation, and then Bail reached out a hand. "Lord Vader, wait," he said quickly, and the man turned back to face him. "There were twins, Obi-Wan took the boy, Luke, I do not know where, but he is with him."

Darth Vader nodded once. "Thank you, Viceroy," he said slowly, then added as an afterthought, "And call me Anakin."

* * *

It was just a small family party that the Viceroy and his wife were hosting, at least, small in comparison to what they normally held. There would be another party that evening, an official gala celebrating the death of the old Emperor and the re-convening of the Galactic Senate to elect a new Chancellor. But for now, it was just a private little affair for a select few - two Jedi Masters were present, as were the Senator Princess Leia Organa, her biological brother Luke and his aunt and uncle, Owen and Beru Lars, Anakin Skywalker, and his frenemy and confidant Han Solo, a member of the Imperial Navy - and a darned good pilot.

It had not taken long for Obi-Wan and Anakin to start bickering again, practically where they left off, before Mustafar, while Yoda hobbled around looking extremely pleased with himself. Luke's training was astonishingly far along - Obi-Wan's shins were still smarting from Yoda's reproof of him regarding starting to train the young Skywalker - and he had demonstrated his skill to his humbled, grateful father. Leia and Han had hated each other from the start, Luke watching their barbed banter in amusement. Owen and Beru had found themselves slightly overwhelmed by the magnificence of their surroundings, but their pride in their nephew had overcome their hesitance, and they now chatted with Leia's proud foster parents.

Han and Luke found themselves at the refreshments table alone for a moment. Han was watching the Princess speaking with Yoda, her face bright with interest. "Whaddya think?" he asked Luke randomly. "A Princess and a guy like me-"

"Sure," Luke replied instantly.

Han looked at him in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah," Luke said agreeably. "If you can get past her brother and two fathers."


	3. Divided Loyalties

"Would it have been too much to ask for that order to come through _before_ I gave him back the bloody lightsaber?" Cody was already very unhappy about this order, Force only knew how many times the General had put his own life on the line for his men, his Commander included. But if the Jedi had gone rogue, Cody glumly supposed, his General was bound to follow. He had just pulled out his commlink to forward the order on to his men when another trooper, clad in the ubiquitous orange-striped armor, ran up, breathing heavily.

"Commander, look at this," he gasped, holding out a Holopad whereon former Chancellor Palpatine declared himself Emperor Palpatine to thunderous applause. Cody stared in disbelief, torn. Did his loyalties lie with Palpatine, the Emperor, or to the Republic, as personified by the Jedi?

A swift flashback overtook his mind - sitting with his best friend, Rex, in one of Coruscant's bars, drinking to the memory of ARC Trooper CT-5555, discussing the strange madness that had overtaken him, his unclear ramblings that Palpatine had a plan in motion to destroy the Jedi, and that the clones were mere pawns in his game.

The decision was split-second, and required no thought. "We've all been played for fools! Send that out to as many of the men as you can, along with my order to ignore Order 66, I'm contacting the other commanders!" Cody was furious, livid beyond belief - had he been Force-sensitive, any Sith Lord would have been ecstatic to have him in that moment. But his was a righteous anger.

* * *

Sidious was furious, livid beyond belief - he had had it all, right there within his grasp, an apprentice more powerful than any Jedi or Sith before him, the destruction of the Jedi, the Empire - and two bloody clones had ruined it all! If only he had held off for another hour to announce his takeover! Oh, he knew every detail of his defeat - might expect it from Kenobi's men - there had been brief skirmishes between clones, those who remained loyal to him, and the vast majority standing in horrifying solidarity with their Jedi Generals - but, in the end, he had lost. And now the entire Jedi Council, backed up by several more Masters and Knights, had come to arrest him. There was no way he could win against them all, there was no way he'd accept imprisonment...Darth Sidious became one with the Force, by his own crimson blade.

* * *

Anakin Skywalker, Hero with No Fear, retired from the Jedi Order. He had been too old, perhaps, his former life too ingrained in him to be abandoned. There was a mild flurry amongst the tabloids upon the revelation of the marriage of the Republic's darling Jedi and a well-respected Senator, but the press was far more focused on the power shifts happening in the government to pay too much attention to the affairs of the Skywalkers. Padme retired from the Senate, she and her husband returning to Naboo's Lake Country to raise their children - though she kept her hand in local politics. Anakin's shame had run deeply, but after an hours-long conversation with the Council, he had come to accept his decisions, and himself. A new understanding had been reached, by all the Jedi, but it was undeniably time for Anakin to leave the Order.

That didn't mean Obi-Wan didn't stop by every so often, though. It was always nice to catch up with Anakin and Padme, and he could even tolerate being climbed on by ecstatic toddlers. It was Obi-Wan who took Luke and Leia to the Temple on their second birthday, and it was Obi-Wan who told them tales of their father's exploits as a Jedi, and it was Obi-Wan who turned a blind eye when they visited home.


	4. Handful of Heroes

"Strange company you're keeping these day, Com- Miss Tano." Former Commander Cody slid into an open seat at the small square table.

"You're not the top of the list, either," Ventress said snidely, sipping her drink.

"It's Ahsoka, Cody," the former Padawan said kindly, shoving a glass towards him. "What's going on?"

"They're all dead," Cody said heavily, swirling the shocking green liquid slowly. "We...couldn't save them. All except Master Kenobi..." The two Force-sensitive females shared a look, they'd known that already. The Force had let them know in no uncertain terms.

"Anakin?" Ahsoka's voice held fear.

"I'm sorry, little'un," Cody said softly. "He's the fallen one..."

Ahsoka sighed deeply, this was no surprise. "So the galaxy is truly lost to the Sith," she murmured sadly.

Cody reached out, laying his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "Maybe not, Co - Ahsoka. Master Kenobi mentioned something about 'a new hope' before he left. He wasn't very clear - maybe to a Jedi, but not to me - something about 'another Skywalker' and 'balance will come.' He did tell me to tell you all wasn't lost, but you will need to play your part. And Commander...you know I'm with you until the end."

Ahsoka squared her shoulders, nodding, determination flooding her. "You're right, Cody. There may be only two of us, but better than none at all."

"Excuse me?" Ventress' eyes narrowed over her glass.

Ahsoka looked surprised. "You hate the Jedi, why would you help us?"

"It's a matter of priorities," Ventress said darkly. "It's true I bear the Jedi no love, but I bear even less for _Palpatine_," she practically spat his name. "I'll help you overthrow him, if that's what you're planning - I'll even help you train Force-sensitive younglings."

Ahsoka nodded slowly. "Yes, the Empire will be hunting them down and destroying them," she murmured. "That is what we will have to do, find them before the Empire does."

"I might can help you there." A clone, bald with a shining head, slid into the seat between Ventress and Cody, carrying a 'pad. "Y'see, I just met this nice fellow, name of Ferus, not too long ago..." They all bent over Rex's datapad, unaware of the lasting impact this small meeting would have on the galaxy throughout the next twenty years, setting the stage for the Next Skywalker...

* * *

**I confess - I am a total Ventress fangirl, and when she saved Obi-Wan, and then helped Ahsoka, and then let all the clones live in the squad sent out to capture our favorite Snips...well, my fangirlism only deepened. So I thought, how cool would it be if Ventress had a hand in starting the Rebellion?**


	5. Witness

To say Clone Captain Rex was shocked would be an understatement. His world and everything in it had been rocked to its very core, and now, the volcano of his temper had been activated and was slowly bubbling towards the surface. It was not too difficult for a man of his great capabilities to steal a med droid, and negotiation tips he'd picked up by watching various Jedi came into play when he convinced it to remove the tumor growing in the brain of every clone - with two notable exceptions, Trooper Tup and ARC Trooper Fives, and now himself. He spread the word quietly amongst the grittiest men of the elite 501st \- the ones with enough individuality to question and even disobey orders, the ones who would die for their leaders, not because it was required, but because they cared that much.

Word didn't stop in the 501st \- all the men had a trustworthy friend or two to let into the secret - and so it happened, when Order 66 went down, a small, hardened taskforce of elite brothers - clones no longer - refused to shoot, refused to kill their Jedi generals, refused to kill younglings.

All because, even in his drugged delirium, ARC Trooper Fives had enough presence of mind to bring a witness to his meeting with Palpatine - a small, hidden recording device, a device he had pressed into Rex's hand as he died. A device that saved many a trooper from becoming what they fought, a device whose existence brought, from an innumerable force of loyal slaves, a band of brothers, to help save the galaxy...again.

After all, that's what they were for, wasn't it?


	6. Double Agent

_We have company_, R2D2 informed Anakin Skywalker as he stood upon the landing platform, silhouetted by the leaping fires of Mustafar.

"So we do," Anakin mumbled. This was going to take some explaining... He stood watching as the sleek, shining ship landed on the platform, not too far away from his own starfighter. Two presences, as familiar to him as his own, inhabited the ship. Yes, this was going to take a _lot_ of explaining. And, just perhaps, not all of it on his part...what was Obi-Wan thinking, letting Padme come here in her condition?

Padme was the first out, stumbling down the ramp and running into his arms with a sob of, "Oh, Ani, you're safe."

"Sh, sh, it's okay, I'm fine," he comforted her, stroking her hair, and nodded to the man at the top of the ramp. "Obi-Wan."

"I very much hope you have a good explanation for all this, Anakin." His master looks as though he's aged fifteen years in a matter of hours.

"All except the deaths of Masters Tiin, Kolar, and Fisto," the Chosen One says heavily.

"And Master Windu?" Obi-Wan asks harshly.

"He told me to," Anakin says quietly. "Open your mind to me, Master." Obi-Wan hesitates for only a moment before complying. The vision Anakin transfers him shocks him to his core.

"He _told_ you to do this?" Obi-Wan gasps.

"Yes," Anakin says lowly. "I am...so sorry, that I had to kill him..."  
"And the Jedi, at the Temple?" Obi-Wan demands.

"The men's blasters were on stun - I very quietly directed Rex to very quietly direct them to very quietly switch the settings. As far as the five-oh-first know, I'm still the bad guy."

"What's going on, Ani?" Padme asks, confused and scared, but hopeful.

Anakin sums it up succinctly for her. "Palpatine is the Sith Master. He defeated the best swordsmen the Jedi had to offer - and Master Windu ordered me to kill him, so I could pose as the Sith apprentice. Sidious will not expect me to turn on him so quickly...he ordered me to kill all the Jedi in the Temple, then come and...er...take care of the Separatist leaders...

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said sadly, but Anakin shook his head, forestalling him.

"It had to be done, Master, there was no alternative." He looked down at the woman in his arms. "You shouldn't have come here, it's dangerous, but I don't want you on Coruscant when it all comes down, either.

"If I may suggest, Master Ani, Alderaan is on the way, perhaps Mistress Padme would like to visit the Queen awhile," C3PO suggested prissily.

"Good idea," Anakin said, overriding his wife's protests. "Come on, let's go, this place is breaking up. Artoo, would you bring along my fighter?"

The little droid whistled a cheerful affirmative, sailing merrily into the astromech slot and firing up the engines as Anakin led his wife and former Master up into the Nubian starship. "Oh, and, Obi-Wan?" he added as they lifted into the atmosphere. "There's something you should know."

"What's that?" the older Jedi asked in trepidation.

"Padme and I are married," Anakin said cheerfully, guiding the ship into hyperspace.

"I could never have guessed," Obi-Wan muttered to himself.

* * *

**Not that anyone is bothering to read this, but this will probably be the last chapter for awhile - I've run out of inspiration and while I think I want to do something with either Bo-Katan or Sugi next, I don't really have ideas for either. And I have previous obligations to my original stories - namely Courtship of Hades - check 'em out on my profile on FP (link on profile here.)**

**Or possibly the Oppress brothers. Was I the only one heartbroken at the fates into which all three brothers were sold?**


	7. Uncrossing the Stars

"Maul, wake up! Brother! Wake up!" The voice permeated the merciful blackness surrounding the tortured Zabrak, who weakly called on the Force to keep him unconscious. The voice insisted, however, and was joined by a pair of shaking hands. "Brother!"

"Sav-age?" the former Sith said weakly, finally succumbing and opening his eyes the barest of slits. The face that swam above his own was both like and unlike his dead brother, and he let his eyes drift shut again.

Feral sighed, this was going to be difficult. "No, Maul, Savage is dead," he said gently. "I am the youngest - Feral Oppress."

Maul swallowed painfully. "You shouldn't be here," he rasped. "When Sidious gets back, he'll serve you as he's served me."

"He's not coming back," Feral murmured, reaching out into the Force and unlocking the bonds holding his broken eldest brother. "It took me too long to find you, brother, and you have missed much. The Sith are no more, destroyed by the Jedi." Maul opened his eyes at that, hazel, they were, though at the news of the death of the Sith master, they glowed faintly yellow. Feral was having none of it. "It is high time, too. Don't you realize? With the Sith gone, and the Witches of Dathomir overcome, we are _finally_ in control of our own destiny! We need no longer fear being slaves, to the dark side, or to our women - we can be free!"

Maul blinked, the yellow fading as quickly as it had come. "Feral," he whispered. Another face entered his line of view, a lovely lavender Twi'lek girl, her eyes compassionate, her mouth a small 'o' of horror.

"What have they done to him?" gentle Ahya whispered in horror.

Feral lifted his brother without much effort, five years in the gladiator arenas had sculpted his physique, and years of abuse had wasted Maul away to a shadow of his former self - stripped of his prosthetic legs, he weighed practically nothing. Feral's sweet companion swallowed hard, tucking her cloak around the half-naked former captive, supporting his head tenderly as Feral carried him to their ship, to share in their freedom.

* * *

**Major self-advertisement here, and some cheating thrown in for good measure - this is highly pertinent to another story I'm writing, wherein Mother Talzin revives the unconscious Feral Oppress and sells him as a slave. He ends up in the gladiator games of a particularly bloodthirsty Hutt, and wins admiration, respect, and fame by being nigh-invincible. He takes advantage of his reputation to rescue a beautiful slave girl from the Hutt, and the two of them work together to gain their freedom - this would be set sometime near or past the end of that story.**

**Title is taken from the idea that the entire Oppress family was born under crossed stars - Feral is defying life and shaping his own destiny; uncrossing the stars.**


	8. Chosen One

"Stay here, get some rest," Master Mace Windu said firmly to young Anakin Skywalker - the boy had never looked worse, the Korun master thought, even immediately after getting in from battle. He hurried out of the Temple, meeting the other strike team of Masters he had assembled, and they all piled into a speeder. (There's a joke in there somewhere, Kit Fisto thought to himself, four Jedi Masters in one speeder on a rainy night-) but it was no laughing matter, and for some reason, Mace had deemed it wiser to leave the Chosen One behind.

Not that Anakin had ever excelled at listening to the Council.

Palpatine attempted a veil of courtesy when the Jedi Masters descended on him, but Mace wasn't in a mood to play games, and things escalated quickly. Poor Master Tiin lost his horn again - the Jedi, unprepared for the fury of their opponent, were strangely outmatched. Over a thousand years, the Sith had evolved, the Jedi, in their arrogance and traditions, had changed not at all.

Most of them, anyway.

Palpatine was quite pleased with himself - he'd taken down three out of four Jedi Masters - not that they were dead, oh no, not dead yet - plenty of time to kill them properly when they were all disabled. Then he'd teach the Jedi who the _real_ Master of the Force was! Now, if he could only wear down this pesky Miss Window into making a mistake, through impatience or exhaustion - or anything, really, the Chancellor wasn't picky - he'd have this battle (and the Republic, and his new apprentice, and anything else he pleased,) in the bag.

Treachery is the way of the Sith - therefore, they cannot fully comprehend loyalty.

The door slid open, it had only taken Anakin that long to arrive due to an unfortunate inadequacy of fuel - he sincerely regretted letting Obi-Wan's speeder drop into the oblivion of Coruscant's lower levels, but sacrifices had to be made - and he _had_ Force-jumped the rest of the way there. Faster than taking time to hotwire another speeder, anyway.

"Anakin!" cried several voices at once, but two battled for mastery - literally. Anakin lit his blue blade and moved into the fray.

"I should've been here from the beginning," he whined to Mace, expertly removing an uncomfortably large patch from the middle of the back of Palpatine's robes - not that you could see anything other than black, no undignified underclothes for the Chancellor! "But you left me!"

"You looked tired," Mace improvised, legitimately surprised Anakin had chosen the Jedi. Sidious was equally surprised, and excessively put out about it.

"My boy, do you really wish to doom Padme to death?" he demanded, countering a crushing Djem So blow.

"Padme?" Mace quizzed severely.

"Uh...can that wait?" Anakin said, whirling out of the way of Palpatine's next strike.

(On the floor, the disabled Masters shared knowing looks, and a slightly pained version of Kit Fisto's famous grin trickled into place.)

It had to wait, none of the three combatants had breath left for speaking, each intent on their side of the Force winning.

(Darth Plagueis had a theory, one that his apprentice had most unwisely forgotten - that the Force itself actively worked against users of the Dark Side.)

It was a subject of debate in the Temple, long after the deed was done, whether it was blue blade or violet that slipped and delivered the fatal blow. Not that it really mattered, in the end - both wielders had just enough of the Dark Side in them to not care if it was their hand that ended the Sith Lord. (Not that it was the fashionable thing to say aloud.)

"So. Padme." Mace deactivated his saber and stared sternly at young Skywalker.

"Yes. Padme." Anakin swallowed. "We're...uh...in love."

Kit snickered, earning himself a glare from the dark-skinned master. "You're not helping, Kit."

The Nautolan pulled himself to his feet, grimacing a little at the effort, and clapped young Skywalker on the shoulder. "You're not the only one - why do you think Master Secura and I go on so many missions together?"

"Kit," Agen Kolar sighed. Anakin blinked.

"That's supposed to be classified," Saesee Tiin muttered from where he lay draped listlessly on the desk. Kit Fisto winked at the victorious Chosen One, who simply stared, shocked. Mace sighed, reaching out into the Force to help heal his friends.

"Um...we're also married..." Anakin added after a minute.

"One up on me there," Kit said cheerfully. "Is that why you spend so much time at 500 Republica?"

"Yes..." Anakin said hesitantly. "And...she's pregnant."

All three other masters in the room glared at Kit Fisto. "Don't you even think about getting that close to Aayla, Kit," Mace warned.

"No worries," Kit replied flippantly. "Who's driving?"

* * *

"Now I know why Obi-Wan hates being in the same speeder as you," Saesee Tiin muttered, his eyes wide and slightly shocked.

"I dunno, it's kinda fun," Kit said, leaning back and putting his feet up on the dashboard, his lekku streaming straight out behind him in the speed of Anakin's breakneck flight. Mace said nothing, but his jaw was grim and tight.

Anakin had to come to a stop at a traffic junction. "I guess, now that the Chancellor is no more, I've lost my place on the Council," he said gloomily.

Kit clapped the younger man on the shoulder again. "Lose the whiny attitude about life, kid, and you might just find your rank elevated," he predicted cheerfully. "It's not that we don't trust you - we just don't like hearing about how we don't trust you."

This was a novel idea to Anakin, so much so that he even slowed down to a modest 100 kilometers an hour for the rest of the journey.

* * *

**Okay, _this _is the last one for awhile. Hope I ended on a cheerful note for y'all!**


	9. History Repeats Itself

"You may fire when ready," Tarkin spoke to his subordinate with cold unconcern.

"No!" Leia gasped, lurching forward in Darth Vader's grip.

"Abort that order," Darth Vader said coldly, and all the officers on the bridge looked at him in surprise, the Princess herself gasping in amazement at support from this unlikely source.

"Lord Vader?" Tarkin questioned angrily.

"We shall take the Princess to the planet's surface and use her as bait in a trap - when the droids arrive on that freighter, we shall be ready and waiting for them," the Sith Lord outlined his dark scheme. "Then when we have retrieved the plans, we will execute the Princess and the passengers aboard that ship publicly."

"A good plan," Tarkin acknowledged reluctantly. "However, if we do not use the Death Star soon, the public will begin to doubt its abilities."

"Leave that to me," Vader replied slyly.

* * *

Princess Leia stood tensely between two stormtroopers in the public square in front of Alderaan's Royal Palace, her father and mother not far away, also in custody. A Corellian YT-1300 freighter was setting down in a large open space, the people massed around the perimeter strangely silent.

But his old master was not the first to emerge from the ship, a scruffy pirate walking out onto the shining duracrete and stopping short. "We have a problem, old man," he called behind him. Ben Kenobi appeared, surveying the square before his eyes rested on the Sith, waiting inexorably. 'Anakin,' he thought sadly to himself, his hand drifting to his lightsaber.

"Where are the droids, Obi-Wan?" Darth Vader demanded. And then another figure appeared behind that of the old Jedi, like a glimpse of the past - blue eyes, tow-headed, wondering at the galaxy around him, and a Force signature so distinctive it was like a punch to Vader's chest.

"Oh dear, oh dear," came faintly from within the ship, snapping the Sith Lord back to the present - until a familiar gold-plated protocol droid came halfway down the ramp, an equally familiar R2 unit whistling along behind.

"Impossible," Anakin whispered. It was like seeing himself all over again, shadowed by his faithful droids, striding alongside his Master. All that was missing was Padmé...his eyes cut sideways to the Princess, standing short and straight and proud, and felt the galaxy Force-kick him again. Perhaps Padmé was not altogether absent...

Well. This was unfortunate. He had not expected to be so confronted by the past today, and doubtless, Obi-Wan would happily employ his old tricks of doing his best to embarrass his former Padawan.

He recovered himself relatively quickly, holding out a hand. "The droids, Obi-Wan."

"You do not want the droids, you want what I am carrying," Obi-Wan replied easily. "I wiped Artoo's memory banks as soon as I memorized the data." Princess Leia gasped a little in horror, the Rebels had needed those plans! A tiny, reassuring wink in her direction calmed her slightly, though tension still sang along her nerves.

Darth Vader scowled, moving forward and igniting his lightsaber simultaneously. "You were unwise to come here, Obi-Wan. The circle is now complete - when I left you, I was but the learner. Now, I am the Master."

The blood pounded in Luke's ears, so that he did not hear old Ben's reply - a full-scale firefight had broken out between the Imperial stormtroopers, and Alderaanian military - with Han and Chewbacca getting in shots where they could, the Princess herself, handy with a stolen blaster, holding her own. Luke ignited his lightsaber, closing his eyes and using the Force to direct bolts away from himself. For only a second, Obi-Wan glanced at him in pride - Darth Vader followed his look, gasping a little in shock at seeing his son wielding his lightsaber, a rush of astonishment and fatherly pride filling him-

He did not heed Obi-Wan's warning, striking down his old Master, but he held up his hand to halt his troops as they surged forward to overcome the mercenary and the Tatooine farmboy. "Let them go," he ordered, watching the Princess escape with the men and droids back into the battered old freighter. "The tracking beacon attached to the ship will lead us to the Rebel base." He watched the rustbucket blast off, his chest hurting with the knowledge of his children's existence. "May the Force be with you," he whispered as they vanished into the blue sky.

Turning, he returned to Imperial matters, indicating the rulers of Alderaan with a wave of his hand. "Execute them, and place the planet under martial law," he ordered one of his black-attired officers. Reaching out, he called Obi-Wan's lightsaber to his hand, weighing it a long moment. "Good-bye, Master," he murmured, before striding for his ship - he had research to do.

"Goodbye for now, Anakin," Ben murmured, watching his former apprentice leave, cape billowing behind him. "Good-bye...for now."


	10. Deadlock

**A/N: I know, I know, I said no EU - mainly because, of the few EU novels I've read, Luke Skywalker and the Shadows of Mindor is the only one I remember - mostly because I loved it so much, and read it so often, I had it practically memorized...until my mother forbade my Star Wars reading. :/ Still, I'm trying to work her around that now...**

**Anyway, forgive me one foray into the EU - the loss of the defeated stormtroopers bothered me as much as it did Luke (which was, I think, one reason for my huge obsession with and adoration for him.)**

Cronal had set it up so that if he was defeated, all his troops would go with him, with no way to save them - but this wanton loss of life did not sit well with the Last Jedi.

The order went out - all the defeated troops were to remove their armor, at once, and change into other uniform. Puzzled Republic soldiers administered the order, handing out bland beige garb to the equally puzzled stormtroopers. But they obeyed - because he was their Emperor, because he was their General, because he was a Jedi, because he _cared_ about them.

Trapped as the young Jedi was, it would be impossible to save all his men.

But this is Luke Skywalker, and he doesn't do 'impossible.'

Fear spiked into terror as all across the system, the captured troopers froze, held in place by the Force. Groans of pain erupted, many of the men falling to their knees, clutching their heads, while horrified onlookers saw shards of shining black rock, thins as hairs, emerge from the craniums of the stormtroopers. And then it was over, the released rock coalescing into one mass that captains hurried to shove out the airlock and back into space, shaken troopers slowly standing to their feet.

Luke Skywalker was exhausted, but it didn't matter - loyal men were no longer in danger. No matter what happened to Black Hole now, he couldn't suck his troops along with him. For the first time in their lives, Shadow's Pawns were free.


	11. Needa New Captain

"I am sorry, Lord Vader." Lorth Needa swallowed once, nervously, knowing full well it might be the last chance he'd ever have to perform the subconscious action. Sure enough, Darth Vader reached out, an invisible hand gripping Needa's throat, making breathing impossible. The Captain stood stoically, calling on all his training to not struggle or cry out against his overlord's assault.

An unexpected voice behind him interrupted the silent execution, and in dismay Needa recognized the voice of his radar officer. "Lord Vader." There was a pause as the man bowed. "It was _my_ responsibility the _Millennium Falcon_ escaped, not Captain Needa's." The pressure on Needa's throat eased and then vanished completely as the Sith Lord turned towards this new confessor. He did not even have time to say anything, though, before other members of the bridge crew spoke up.

"No, my lord, it was my fault." "My lord, it is my responsibility." "Lord Vader, the _Millennium Falcon_ got past me." "My lord, I was in the wrong here."

The two commanders gaped. The entire bridge crew had come to claim responsibility, and Loth Needa felt an unaccustomed rush of emotion towards his crew, the ones so loyal as to risk their own lives merely to save his. They were banking on the fact that Vader, while possibly capable of flying the Destroyer on his own, would not want to expend so much effort.

Vader's mind flew back to the days of the Republic, of the wide-eyed, eager commander Needa had been then, and the competent, honorable man he was now, and sighed mentally. He was no less furious over the loss of the Falcon, but that did not make him blind to his current situation. Turning back to the captain, he had to hand it to the man - despite his close brush with death and perilous situation, he was calm and collected, not quaking in terror or begging for mercy - and pointed a warning finger at him. "Do not fail me again, Captain," he warned darkly, and strode away. It wasn't like Solo was known for his trickery or anything, anyway...

* * *

**Ever since reading Matthew Stover's Revenge of the Sith novelization, and recognizing Loth Needa's name, I became slightly obsessed with him. I just re-watched ESB recently, and could not help feeling a great deal of respect for the Imperial captain willing to shoulder all the blame and save his officers, who were just as much at fault as he was, and march bravely to his doom.**

*****UPDATE*** I realized I misspelled the Captain's name when reading another fic...had to come correct it!**


	12. The Emperor and the Emery Board

Palpatine, supreme ruler of the Galactic Empire and Sith Master, slipped as he entered his luxurious, tile-floored bathroom, a slim, short, rough stick of some kind sliding easily beneath the monarch's foot. Palpatine yelled out, using the Force to right himself and call the offending object to his hand. He eyed it balefully for a moment, debating whether or not to fry it into oblivion, but grumpily relinquished the idea and set the thing down on the counter, next to the hot pink comb with fiery red hair wound about in the teeth.

Turning on the water in the bathtub, his already bad mood was worsened when the water began to back up, swirling sluggishly around the drain. Grumbling to himself, the Emperor cut the water flow and used the Force to reach down into the drain for the mess of hair he knew would be there. Sure enough, out came a twisted, matted blob of wet hair. He levitated it to the trash, repressing his gag reflex at the sight of the soap scummy hairball.

Taking a deep breath to try and eliminate the disgusting image from his mind, he finally entered the shower, to face a whole new set of annoyances. He searched through the various half-empty soap and shampoo bottles for his own special Collagen Elastin Vitamins B &amp; E (Now, with Aloe Vera! For Even Healthier, More Youthful Skin!) moisturizing body wash. After locating his specialized soap substitute, he then had to dig through the bath poufs for his black one - red, for Mara, was on top, and Sly's navy was right behind that. "I really need to tell those two to find their own bathroom," the Emperor grumbled, beginning to scrub himself off.

Stepping out the shower and shivering a little in the cold air, he tugged his towel from where it resided beneath the other two, ignoring them as they slid disconsolately to the floor. Let the pestiferous females look after their own towels, served them right for putting them on _his _**royal **towel. Fuming, he hunted through the various perfumes, bath oils, and lotion bottles on the counter for his own personal Collagen Elastin Vitamins B &amp; E (Now, with Aloe Vera! For Even Healthier, More Youthful Skin!) Now Even _More_ Moisturizing! (Extra Large - 50% more **FREE**!) skin-rejuvenating body lotion. Finally finishing his hygiene routine, (what? He doesn't have a beauty routine, he's not a woman!) he abandoned his towel on the floor and stepped out into his spacious black chambers, crossing to his closet for his robes.

Out of the bathroom, away from his privileged women's annoying "necessities," he mellowed a little, deciding to let them continue using his facilities. That was, until he leaned down to pick up his shoes and stabbed his hand on a very sharp stiletto heel.


	13. Unlikely Sources

Despair, hopelessness - often reviled, assumed to be weakening emotions, to be despised and avoided. But there was something to be said, Gregor thought as plasma rained about him, for despair, for knowing you would not be alive in another hour.

For despair, while sapping hope, could replace it with courage. Knowing that the pesky little droids and insufferable colonel with an ego a hundred times larger than himself would live due to his sacrifice allowed Gregor to hold his head up, returning shot for shot, doing all within his power to destroy the enemies of the Republic.

* * *

Treachery is the way of the Sith. Asajj Ventress knew that, still, Count Dooku's betrayal ran deep. She'd lost everything now, Ky, the promise of her Sith training, even her kin on Dathomir. It was all gone, and some nights, lying alone in the back of some sleazy cantina, strong, cold, ruthless Asajj Ventress cried herself to sleep. She had not realized just how desperate for companionship, for love, she really was, until Ahsoka Tano - _of all people!_ \- convinced her to help the former Padawan. Somehow, even after Tano was exonerated, the two women didn't split up. Both misfits, both Force-sensitive and half trained, nowhere to go, no one to turn to but each other... And so, they stayed together.

* * *

All across the galaxy, tens of thousands of clones opened fire on their Jedi generals, destroying the forces of the Light side in one terrible fell swoop.

* * *

Palpatine's last thought, as he plummeted down the shaft, was of Darth Vader, his last emotion, pure shock. _I thought I had him! I thought the chains I had put on his mind would hold him forever! That Skywalker brat-_


	14. Us

"He cares about us, Ani!" Padmé Amidala pleaded desperately, shocked and horrified by the yellow irises of her husband's eyes.

"_Us?!_" Darth Vader demanded, shock, betrayal, disbelief, and fury raging for mastery across his face.

"He knows," his wife said tremblingly. "Anakin, he cares about us, he'll help us. Please, come back to me before it's too late!"

A tremor in the Force drew the newly-made Sith Lord's eyes to the sleek Nubian fighter. A familiar figure stood at the top of the ramp, observing the flaming scene below them in horrified grief. Vader turned on Padmé in a rage, but her expression clearly showed her shock at her stowaway, even had her presence in the Force not blazed with it. "Anakin," Obi-Wan murmured, starting down the ramp slowly. "What _happened_ to you?"

The compassion in his voice, the self-blame, the genuine love, momentarily disarmed the man who had once been Anakin Skywalker, confusing him, dimly conveying to him the horrors he'd perpetrated, and...just maybe...that he could stop now. "Padmé is going to die in childbirth," he blurted. "Only my new powers can save her!"

Obi-Wan approached him tentatively, and though the younger man's grip on his lightsaber tightened, he did not move to ignite it, and the Jedi tentatively lay his hand on his former student's shoulder. "The Dark side can only destroy, never heal," he said grimly. "You know that, Anakin. I will do whatever I can to save the Senator, you know that, but you cannot save her using Darkness."

"She's not just the Senator," Anakin protested hotly. "She's my wife!"

His mentor - friend - _brother_ \- raised an eyebrow. "Well I'd hope so!"

"Oh, Master Anakin!" a fussy digital voice interrupted. "Thank the Maker you're safe!" Two pairs of blue eyes and one of brown skewered him with dirty looks, but the oblivious droid noticed nothing, prattling on. "We were so worried!"

_Frrroooooop! _Artoo-Detoo effectively distracted his loquacious counterpart by ramming the protocol droid's legs and knocking him over, scolding him in Binary.

"Why you conceited little trash incinerator!" Threepio exclaimed indignantly.

Obi-Wan turned back to the conversation at hand, the subject of which still under his hand. "Anakin, I will help you," he promised. "And I will stand by you, no matter what the Council says. You can't keep this hidden any longer," he added urgently, sensing his young protégè's protests. "Indeed, it has come up recently. If you can do this, if you can resist the Dark side, it may change things for all the Jedi. But you must resist this!"

"I can't let her die," Anakin said desperately, his fists clenching in fear and anxiety.

"I'll be fine, Ani," Padmé said softly, coming forward and taking one of his clenched hands, massaging it open. "You heard Obi-Wan. We'll be fine. Please, come back to us..."

"I killed them all." His eyes went blank with horror and pain, his acts as Darth Vader catching up to him. Padmé and Obi-Wan shared a grim look, knowing how much worse the guilt would be if he had been allowed to rampage unchecked for who knows how long. "All...all the Jedi..."

"Skywalker!" Obi-Wan barked, and Anakin tried to focus on him. "New mission," the elder Jedi said sternly, doing a passable impression of Mace Windu. "We must arrest the Sith Lord, and end his reign of terror before it begins."

"Right." Anakin ran his hand through his hair and offered his master a worried, sheepish look. "So...Kenobi and Skywalker save the day again?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said firmly. "Kenobi and Skywalker save the day again."

* * *

**I was listening to Thomas Bergersen's album Sun while writing this scene - specifically, Final Frontier, Colors of Love, and Cry, if anyone wants a little background music whilst reading. I personally recommend the whole album, but not everyone's taste matches mine...**


	15. Hello Again

**This chapter is not for Obi-Wan/Satine shippers. I hated her from the first time I saw her, and my opinion of her never rose. I always thought this other woman would be a much better love interest for Obi-Wan...**

* * *

"Well, if it isn't Obi-Wan Kenobi," a woman's voice said from behind the Jedi Master.

He turned, his eyebrows raising. "Sugi," he said in surprise, then smiled warmly. "You aided Padawan Tano in escaping the Trandoshan hunters, I hear."

"For a price," she replied casually, scowling at a scrape on the hilt of her blaster before stowing it away. "As I always do."

"Still, we owe you a great thanks," he replied professionally.

She gave him a cocky half-smile. "Just pay me the money you owe, and you can keep the thanks," she quipped.

"You'll have your reward," Obi-Wan assured her. "But I must personally thank you for your intervention. Ahsoka is talented, but I fear she could not have gotten away without the help of your band and the Wookiees."

"Probably not," the bounty hunter agreed. "I'm just as glad to put a twist in those aliens' tails, anyway," she added sourly. "Bossk was furious when he heard about it. We bounty hunters may not be the most respectable beings in the galaxy, but hunting younglings for sport is not our way."

A mud-covered Ahsoka appeared at that point. "Hey," she said, slightly awkwardly, and looked between the two. "Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all, Padawan, what is it?" Obi-Wan asked kindly.

"Master Yoda wanted to talk to you," Ahsoka reported.

Obi-Wan glanced over at the little green man and nodded to him in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Padawan," he said, moving away.

Ahsoka turned to Sugi. "Thanks for helping," she said.

Sugi hesitated a moment over her reply before smiling. "No problem."

Ahsoka glanced towards the Masters, who stood in discussion, before looking back at the Zabrak bounty hunter. "Think we'll see each other again?" she asked in a slightly lower voice.

Sugi raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I dunno, why?" Ahsoka grinned mischievously and whispered something to the older woman that surprised her quite a bit. "Master Obi-Wan Kenobi?" Sugi whispered back. "Are you certain?"

"Positive," Ahsoka confirmed, then bowed. "It was nice seeing you again, Miss Sugi."

"And you," Sugi replied a bit absently as the Padawan left, watching Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

* * *

**_Two hours later_**

* * *

"So nice of you to tell me about this place, Master Kenobi," Sugi said over lunch.

"Why don't you call me Obi-Wan," the ginger Jedi suggested with a slightly nervous smile. "And it was no problem, Dex is one of the best cooks I know, I come here whenever I can."

"I can see why," Sugi agreed. "So, will you be here on Coruscant for awhile?"

"Possibly, I'm not sure yet," Obi-Wan replied. "Why, will you be?"

* * *

**A/N: So, I have tons of followers on here and almost as many favoriters, so how about some reviews, people? =)**


	16. And What Happened After

"Strike him down, young Skywalker, and take your father's place at my side," Emperor Palpatine ordered.

Luke looked up from his horror-stricken contemplation of his father's prosthetic. "Or what?"

"Or you die," Darth Sidious said sourly, beginning to wonder if this was a bad idea.

"Are those my only two options?" Skywalker asked impudently.

"Yes," snarled Emperor Palpatine.

Luke considered this a moment before giving a rather noncommittal answer. "Enh." The crafty old Sith Lord barely had time to register shock as the young Jedi's green lightsaber clove him squarely in two.

* * *

The deceased Emperor Palpatine opened his eyes - and looked straight up into the glittering yellow ones of another Sith Lord who had been neatly subdivided. "Hello, _Master_," the red-and-black Zabrak hissed menacingly. "Long time no see - in fact, quite a few friends were eager to come say hello to you..." Sidious' horrified gaze slid past the Zabrak...past the other Zabrak...past the former Count of Serenno...to tens of thousands of Jedi, none of whom seemed to remember that revenge was not the Jedi way.

Oh. Oh, this was not good. Not good at all.

* * *

**A big thank-you to the persons who responded to my pathetic call for reviews. You know who you are. ;)**


	17. Class is in Session

"My lord." The flunkey bowed perfunctorily. "One of our latest enrollees is Force-sensitive. He has been taken into custody, as per regulations, and a task force has been sent out to arrest the family. I thought perhaps you'd like to speak with them."

Darth Vader reflected on the man's delicate way of saying 'we have someone you can kill legally,' simultaneously impressed, annoyed, and amused. "You are correct, director," he replied, his voice even more malevolent than usual at the prospect of having victims he could choke in good conscience. "Bring them to me."

"At once, my lord." The director of the Imperial Academy for the Tatoo system bowed again before vanishing out the door, leaving the Dark Lord of the Sith contemplating the enjoyable hour ahead.

* * *

As the door slid open to admit the prisoners, flanked by the white-armored troopers, Darth Vader glanced down at the file in his hand. The jolt he was given as he saw the name heading the page almost overrode his prosthetics. Looking up, he stared into a pair of terrified eyes as blue as his own had once been, as he was overwhelmed by a wash of a Force presence so strong and so bright it almost knocked the Dark Lord out cold. After a moment of recollecting himself and taking several steadying artificial breaths, he dismissed the troopers and looked down at the file again - just to receive another appalling shock. The names of the guardians listed for _Skywalker, Luke_ were _Lars, Owen_ and _Lars, Beru_. He looked up again to study his three prisoners.

Time had not been kind to his stepbrother and his wife, the man formerly Anakin Skywalker noted with a vague, detached interest. It was the prisoner in the center that held most his attention - the clearly terrified young man who radiated Force sensitivity of the purest Light so strongly it made the Sith Lord dizzy. "Luke Skywalker," he rumbled, and Owen tensed. A dark thought occurred to the dark man - did Owen know who he was? How did his son end up with Lars?

The door opened and another grizzled old man stepped in, to a cacophony of surprise. "Old Ben!" young Luke exclaimed incredulously.

"Obi-Wan!" Darth Vader thundered, standing abruptly to his feet.

"Kenobi!" Owen yelled simultaneously with his stepbrother, incensed.

"Good to know I'm remembered," Obi-Wan observed with mild cheer, folding his arms into his sleeves. His keen eyes swept the room, observing all they saw, as Darth Vader observed that if time had not been kind to the Larses, it had been even less kind to his former best friend. Obi-Wan looked at Luke last, and winked reassuringly before looking back to the hulking black figure that dominated the room.

"You!" A burst of red light erupted in the middle of the room, pointing accusingly at the old Jedi Master. Vader's other hand bobbed in midair, finger pointed. "You!" he repeated. "What is going on here?"

"It's very simple, Anakin," the infuriating old man replied calmly, pulling out a chair for Beru before taking one himself and continuing before Vader could protest the use of his former name. "Luke here inherited his father's love of flying and the stars, and no power in the galaxy could tie him down to Tatooine. Isn't that right, young Skywalker?" he added teasingly to Luke.

Darth Vader growled, redirecting Obi-Wan's attention to him. "Padmé died," he said slowly, deliberately. "How is it possible my grown son is standing here - _here,_ of all places, this backcorner dustball of filth - what were you thinking, bringing him _here_? And how did he survive?"

The old Jedi saddened. "Padmé lived to give birth," he replied quietly. "I brought him here to protect him, to hide him - I knew his aunt and uncle would be the best ones to care for him. I stayed nearby all along, keeping an eye on him, protecting him as best I could."

"Why didn't you train him?" his father demanded indignantly.

His righteous wrath was met by acute irritation. "And risk prematurely exposing him to you and the Emperor? I think not," Kenobi retorted.

Darth Vader paced, Luke gaping at all them. "Darth-" His voice squeaked in alarm, he paused to clear his throat before trying again - "Darth Vader is my _father_?"

"I believe it was Anakin Skywalker who sired you," Obi-Wan corrected.

Darth Vader waved a dismissive hand. "That name no longer has any meaning for me," he replied rotely.

"Then why do you wish to claim his son?" Obi-Wan asked curiously. The onyx faceplate turned to glower darkly at him.

"_My_ son," Darth Vader replied darkly.

"You cannot have it both ways, Darth," Ben pointed out. "The fact remains, he is the son of Anakin Skywalker. Either he is not your son, or you are Anakin Skywalker."

"Names are irrelevant," the black-clad man retorted after a moment, realizing the quandary into which his former Master had backed him. He turned to face the floored Luke and held out a hand invitingly. "Join me, son, and together we will rule the galaxy," he declared. "I will train you as you should've been trained all these years," he added pointedly. Obi-Wan remained infuriatingly serene at the implied accusation.

"Uhh..." Luke said blankly, too staggered by the highly eventful day to be able to articulate, even if he'd had an answer prepared.

"Tell me something, Anakin," Obi-Wan said quietly.

Darth Vader glowered. "That name has no-"

"I thought names were irrelevant now?" his infuriating master said innocently, and a computer terminal in the corner sparked as the Sith Lord briefly lost control of his aggravation.

"Speak your piece, old man, and be quick," he snarled. "Mine and my son's destiny awaits."

Surprisingly, Obi-Wan obeyed, rushing to get his say out. "Do you enjoy the Dark Side?" he demanded. "Do you really want your own son to experience nothing but hatred and pain for the rest of his life? If so, why do you care about whether or not he is your son? If you care, why do you want him to be unhappy?"

All was silent for a long moment as Vader wrestled with these questions. He had started to reply instantly, then was forced to stop, truly considering his one-time friend's words. Did he love his son? If he did, how could he desire the same torment for young Luke as he was forced to endure daily - hourly? In the end, the only answer he could summon was a grudging, resentful echo of his last words to Obi-Wan the last time they met. "I hate you," he grumbled.

"Does that mean you know I'm right?" Obi-Wan asked, sounding almost...hopeful?

Another computer terminal sparked and Darth Vader abruptly changed the subject, whirling on his stubbornly scowling stepbrother. "What were you thinking, letting him sign up for the Imperial Academy? Don't you know the policy on Force-sensitives?"

"No," Owen snapped back, stung. "I didn't know the policy, and I sure didn't know he was coming here to sign up! He told his aunt he was going in to Anchorhead!"

"Truly his father's son," Obi-Wan mused aloud, and both the other men whirled on him with admirable unanimity.

"Shut up, Kenobi!" they barked simultaneously, then glared plasma bolts at each other before turning to glare at Luke, who pouted.

"What? Uncle Owen's been saying for years I could go to the Academy 'next year,' and every year, it was just another year longer," he protested. "But since we got those two droids, I figured this year I could finally go..."

"What two droids?" Darth Vader asked sharply. Impossible - surely they weren't the very droids he was seeking -

A cheerful whistle came from the doorway as a squat blue-and-white astromech bopped into the room. _Hello, Anakin_, R2D2 said cordially. _Long time no see_.

Darth Vader stared, flabbergasted, at the perky rotund little droid and his shiny golden humanoid counterpart, who entered the room and promptly went into histrionics. "These two droids," Obi-Wan said serenely, and Darth Vader - Dark Lord of the Sith, most feared man in the galaxy - sat down with an abrupt thump and the horrible sinking feeling that the Force itself had conspired to play the biggest practical joke on him in the history of ever. Or perhaps Kenobi was the perpetrator and the Force was just in collusion with the provoking old Jedi.

Luke broke the strained silence. "So, does this mean I can enroll in the Academy?" he asked hopefully.

* * *

**I just wanted to say thank you to all the anonymous reviewers who most unexpectedly swamped my last post. Hello to everyone new, and nice to see you again, Rex. :) And of course you have, Rebel - this isn't meant to be some literary gem to be pondered and argued over by English masters, it's just a short little peek at various AU plotlines, usually humorous, nothing particularly great about it at all.**


	18. Catching Up

Ben Kenobi shuffled to his door in answer to a demanding knock, opening it up before peering disbelievingly up into a familiar pair of steel-blue eyes. "Ventress?!"

The Dathomirian female folded her arms, cocking her hips to the side and replied with equal snarl and resignation in her voice, "Yes, Tano thought it would be very funny to send me as messenger-girl. Are you going to let me in or not?"

The former Jedi Master stepped back to allow her entry, his eyes slightly wider than usual. Closing the door behind her, and effectively blocking out most the light, he lit a glowlamp and set on the table in the middle of the small hut. "When did you start growing hair?" he asked cautiously, pulling a chair out for her.

"It's a _wig,_" she retorted in annoyance. "The others thought it wiser for whoever came to be in disguise. Clearly-" she shoved the faintly-shimmering dark blue wig off her head - "it wasn't adequate if you recognized me so easily."

Obi-Wan waved her to the chair, fetching glasses and a carefully-hoarded bottle of Whyren's Reserve from a cabinet. "It's the eyes - someone who hadn't...er, _encountered_ you often may well be fooled. Perhaps you should try contacts," he suggested, pouring them each a healthy measure and setting her glass in front of her.

"Cheers," she said sourly, and downed the alcohol in one gulp before setting the glass back on the table with a **clunk.** "I'll pass the idea along to the others."

"Is it just you, and Ahsoka, and the clones still?" Obi-Wan asked soberly, his voice dropping. Ventress cut him a poisonous glare.

"The less you know, the better," she said sternly, and pulled a small comm from a pouch on her belt, sending it skidding across the table to him. "As soon as you have memorized this, destroy it."

She stood as he picked it up, and he glanced up at her. "You don't want to leave yet, there's a bad sandstorm approaching," he warned. "Even if you make it back to your ship - which is unlikely - it would blind you and possibly cause damage if you tried to leave. You'll have to stay here."

Ventress glared at him. "You mean, here in your hut?" she demanded, clearly less than thrilled with the idea.

"Yes," the Jedi-turned-hermit returned firmly. "Here, with me." A wry smile twisted his lips. "It's not like we don't have plenty of shared memories..."

She slowly sat down again, a small smirk of her own twisting her mouth. "You mean like that time I rescued you from the Oppress brothers?"

* * *

**To my reviewers: I tend to prefer humor to angst, and it's become my opinion that any situation in which we have young Luke, Darth Vader, and Obi-Wan is just about a recipe for disaster. In fact I've already got another idea, it's just not coming together properly...yet. ;)**


	19. Calamity

"Obi-Wan, I need to talk to you," Knight Anakin Skywalker muttered in an urgent undertone as he fell into step beside his former Master.

"I'm listening," Obi-Wan replied evenly, not slacking his pace.

"Privately," Anakin stressed. Sighing, Master Kenobi ducked into an empty practice room and stood waiting on his former apprentice, hands folded serenely in front of him. The young Jedi closed the door securely and turned to face his friend, barely controlled panic etched on his features. "Senator Amidala and I are married, she's pregnant, and going to die in childbirth," he blurted.

Obi-Wan raised one controlled eyebrow. "That's not funny, Anakin," he began to rebuke his erstwhile student, then stopped at the stark terror in the other's eyes. The world gave a dizzying lurch as horror rose in the usually unflappable Master. "You're serious?" he demanded, appalled and shocked. Anakin nodded numbly, sinking onto one of the cushions that lined the walls and shoving his hair back in an unconscious gesture. Gravity abruptly reversed directions - but that couldn't be right, because Obi-Wan was sitting down with a thump on his rump. He stared at Anakin, perhaps waiting for a shout of "Haha, tricked you!" But the shout didn't come and the overwhelmed Jedi Master was forced to accept his apprentice was telling the truth. After a moment, Anakin added another bit of vaguely fascinating trivia. "I spoke to Master Yoda about it, but his advice was to let go. I can't, Master, she's everything to me!"

Even in his shell-shocked state, despite his dislike of politics and politicians, Obi-Wan's diplomatic mind was already disconnectedly recognizing how good for publicity it would be for the poster boy of the Jedi to be married to the most ardently peaceful Senator. No, actually, that only aggravated his new-found headache. "I will speak to the Council on your behalf, Anakin," he said as comfortingly as he could manage in his current state. "They must be told, but I promise you, I will stand by you no matter what, and the Senator will be fine." Obi-Wan's only comfort was that the Council's collective reaction when he announced that the most powerful Jedi was shortly going to be a father, would doubtless be the show of the century.

* * *

**No, Rex, Obi-Wan (like Luke Skywalker) is just one of those characters who does not need a love interest (hark! what light through yonder window breaks? My fangirl heart.) Nor do I particularly ship him and Ventress...although, come to think of it, I _could_ see them as a pairing...hey, you just gave me an idea for my next installment. :) But anyway, before I got distracted with my ramblings, I was going to say that wasn't meant as a pairing fic - it was just two old frenemies catching up.**


	20. Disturbing

**Credit for this idea goes to Anonymous Rex. Rex, I hope you aren't so appalled by this installment that you leave me forever, I'd be quite upset. :S**

* * *

"Master, can I talk to you?" Ahsoka Tano entered the tent where her Master was attempting to meditate.

"Course you can, Snips." Anakin didn't have to see the perturbed expression on his Padawan's face to know she was upset - her confusion and anxiety swirled in fractals in the Force. "What's wrong?"

"I saw something that I don't understand," she confessed, plopping down across from her Master in a controlled collapse.

"Happens to the best of us," Anakin replied flippantly, opening his eyes. He was nothing loathe to forgo meditation, anyway.

Ahsoka gave him a pointed look to shut him up, waiting until he focused his full attention on her before blurting out what was disturbing her. "I saw Master Obi-Wan...er..._embracing_ Ventress!"

Anakin's eyes widened, before narrowing in suspicion, then he burst out laughing. "Good one, Snips, you almost had me there for a minute," he chuckled. "Whose idea was it - yours, Rex's?"

"I'm being serious," she snapped, and he blinked. This wasn't her usual idea of a prank, and it wasn't like her to drag it on. Then too, there was her very real irritation, pouring off of her in waves.

"Ahsoka," he said gently. "Maybe they were fighting and you just didn't see the lightsabers-"

"I know a kiss when I see one," she interrupted in a flat voice.

"Snips," Anakin reasoned. "This is Obi-Wan we're talking about, and Ventress. Can you imagine a less likely pairing?"

"Yes," she fired back, standing. "Master Kenobi and Dooku."

"Ahsoka!" Anakin exclaimed, appalled. "That's not even funny!" But she had already swept superbly out the tent.

* * *

Anakin had given quiet orders that should General Kenobi leave the camp, he was not to be intercepted, but Skywalker himself should be notified at once. About midway through the night, the clone on guard commed his general, informing him that Obi-Wan had just slipped out of camp. Anakin thanked the trooper, retrieved his lightsaber, and sneaked after Obi-Wan. He followed the elder Jedi several klicks into the jungle before Kenobi stopped, clearly waiting. Anakin shimmied up a tree, peering beadily down into the clearing below.

A disturbance at the edge of his awareness alerted him to the presence of another sharing his tree. He looked up in alarm - straight into a pair of blue Togruta eyes. "Ahsoka!" he breathed, startled almost out of his skin. "What are you doing here?"

"Same thing you are," she whispered back pointedly, and looked down at Obi-Wan - who had been joined by none other than Asajj Ventress. The younger Jedi immediately forgot any quarrels and attuned all their senses to the scene being enacted below. After a moment, Ahsoka turned an accusing look on a thoroughly stunned and aghast Anakin. He swallowed - rarely did he have to eat his words, but Ahsoka would give him no rest until he admitted that she had been right about Obi-Wan and Ventress.

Their shared consternation did not stop the two from lurking in the tree and spying. After an astoundingly intense kiss, the two secret lovers seated themselves on the jungle floor, sharing sweetsand cookies and information. Apparently, Obi-Wan's conservative nature held true to the last, for another kiss was all the goodbye in which the two indulged before parting to go their separate ways. Still stupefied but determined to return to camp before their senior, Anakin and Ahsoka fled through the dense trees back towards the encampment.

"Well?" Ahsoka demanded as they regained the safety of the Jedi' tent.

"Disturbing doesn't begin to cover it," Anakin affirmed.

* * *

**I had a little trouble with the possessive of Jedi - the plural of Jedi is Jedi, and too many people tack an 's' on the end. I felt it better to just put the apostrophe, as it would be after an 's' on most other plurals anyway (eg, the Padawans' tent.)**


	21. In a Heap of Trouble

**Rex: Ah, glad you liked it. ;) Catch the Dark-Side-cookies reference? And don't worry - I'm a firm Christian, kissing is the outside limit of intimacy in my stories.**

**To all my other reviewers: Thanks again, I'm happy to please. *bows* It's lovely to know my humble offerings are enjoyed. :)**

* * *

"Some rescue!" the petite brunette screeched in his ear, firing off another shot with terrifying accuracy to be rewarded with a muffled yell from down the harshly lit metal corridor.

Han Solo was about to shoot the loudmouth Princess himself, but contented himself shooting at the ones actually shooting at him, and only fired back a pointed retort. "You weren't doing too well yourself, Your Worship," he snapped back.

"Both of you, shut up and shoot!" the kid yelled, dodging momentarily behind cover before lunging back up again to send off another round, with an aim to rival Han's and the uppity Princess's.

"Aarrroourrgh!" Chewie added.

"Not you too," Han grumbled, but obeyed, tossing off another two bolts - only nothing happened. Realizing the reason, he let loose a stream of Huttese, earning himself a filthy look from young Luke.

"Why aren't you firing?" the diminutive brunette with the immense voice demanded of him from across the miniscule hallway.

"Power pack," he hollered back. She stared at him in horror for a moment before looking down at her own commandeered blaster, noting the depleted power.

As if on cue, C-3PO's voice issued faintly from the commlink still clutched mechanically in Luke's hand. "We're doomed!"

"Oowwroouugh," Chewie howled mournfully.

Han looked back down the corridor with a scowl. Their options were drastically limited.

* * *

"Lord Vader, Grand Moff Tarkin." The flunky gave the requisite perfunctory bow. "We have apprehended the prisoners."

"Not all of them," Darth Vader rumbled dangerously. "Kenobi remains at large."

The officer looked mildly startled, and faintly offended. His indignation did not trip him up - it took a certain art to remain alive around the Dark Lord, and it was one the aide intended to live to master. "We have in custody all the infiltrators that had entered the detention level," he replied carefully.

"Nonetheless, Kenobi was not among them," Darth Vader insisted. "I will locate him myself." He turned and swept majestically off, leaving Tarkin and the annoyed officer behind.

* * *

The troopers who had taken the infiltrators into custody after their surrender did not expect the prisoners to suddenly change their minds. The passive Wookiee abruptly snapped his cuffed hands around a trooper's neck, summarily throttling him. The older male human grabbed the falling blaster as the younger one grabbed the Princess-Senator and hustled her to safety. It was not long before all was pandemonium and confusion again, the dark-haired one and the Wookiee chasing a paltry handful of troopers down the corridor, straight into an ambush, as the towheaded one half dragged the female towards the docking bays, and a lone Jedi Master sneaked around in the gigantic battle station's innards.

* * *

**A/N: I always felt that garbage shoot was a little too convenient - much like all the ventilation shafts and ductwork in the prequels and The Clone Wars.**


	22. Sorry About That, Sir

Clone Captain CT-7567, generally known by friends as Rex and by enemies as Republic Cannon Fodder and worse, was having a bad day. It had started getting bad right about when General Skywalker - eyes now an eerie yellow, the clone noticed - announce his name change (what kind of name was *_Darth Vader_*?) and followed up by saying the Jedi were traitors and all of them - down to the infant Rodian brought in the day before - must be slain.

Rex was a good clone. He followed orders. He was also a good captain - he could think on his feet, when orders were clearly wrong. This was clearly one of the latter times. And so, as the 501st marched up the Temple stairs, one unauthorized blue stun-bolt shuddered up and enveloped the psychotic general. With the former Jedi's yellow eyes, it was no difficult thing to convince the medics the man was sick, and that was affecting his mentality.

What to _do_ with the general was much more difficult, once Rex got his large frame situated in the back of a speeder. What to do about all the Jedi that _someone_ had ordered killed, was even more a problem. "Where's General Kenobi when you need him?" Rex grumbled to the inert Force-user sprawled in the speeder, running a hand absently over his durasteel-smooth pate, his helmet under his left arm.

"Rex?" The clone captain jumped - since when could he summon up people like that? - and turned towards the stressed, but still elegant voice.

"General," he said, saluting. "We have a problem..."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed with a sigh. "I'll take it from here..."

* * *

**A/N: I just started another document similar to this one, only canon - simply told from a different viewpoint. First chapter is published, if anyone's interested.  
**


	23. About Time

"He lied to me," Darth Vader rumbled resentfully to himself as he strode through the hall towards the bridge. "You won't get away with this, my Master." The door slid open and he marched onto the bridge, skewering the unfortunate Admiral Piett with a pointed glare. "Inform me as soon as we enter orbit over Imperial Center," he barked. "I want us over Imperial Palace."

"Yes, my Lord," Piett affirmed with a respectful nod, then turned and relayed the orders to the pertinent officers. Darth Vader swept back and forth through the bridge, stewing and unintentionally terrifying all the officers so badly they could barely perform their duties. Subconsciously feeding off their fear, his Dark Lordship fumed, internally promising himself that Darth Sidious would not see that sunset. _She did not die by my hand_, he growled mentally. _She remained alive long enough to bear our son! He will pay for his lies..._ His train of thought was interrupted by the Admiral, who, with admirable composure, informed him that they were right above the palace and a shuttle was prepared. "Thank you, Admiral," Vader replied, and swept from the room.

His destination was not the shuttle, in the hangar bay. Instead, he directed his steps to one of the gunner's stations, shoving the hapless man aside and pouring fire down on the Palace below, utterly destroying the building and all inside.

* * *

All across the galaxy, Force sensitives took a deep breath, feeling a shadow pass away from them they'd never even noticed was there.

* * *

In a tiny hut on Dagobah, an ancient creature lifted his head, testing the flow of the Force around him. "Betrayed the Master, the apprentice finally has," he grumbled, going back to his cooking. "About time, it is!"

"Don't be too hard on him, Master Yoda," another voice said with carefully controlled amusement. "He takes his time to getting around to betraying his Masters."

The old alien directed a stern look in the direction of the voice. "Flippant you have become, in death, young Obi-Wan," he scolded. "A _grave_ matter, this is!" The hut filled with the cackles of the old Jedi at the look bent upon him by the shimmering blue Force ghost.

* * *

On the Falcon, Leia straightened up and took a deep breath, staring out the cockpit viewscreen at the swirls of hyperspace, feeling so much _freer_ than she had in...her entire life. Luke, in the corridor, stumbled against the wall, as he was washed with Light. "Father," he breathed, eyes bright.

* * *

On Coruscant, a collective breath was drawn, security too stunned to react initially. After several minutes of breathless silence, the people poured outside, already celebrating, news crews going wild.

* * *

On the Executor, numb looks of horror and shock were exchanged, then a frantic Admiral bellowed orders for hyperspace before Security's collective wits caught up to them.

And Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, strode down to his hyperbaric chamber to sulk.

* * *

**A/N: I'm having a strange problem, guest reviews are no longer showing up for me to moderate (as I have set,) nor am I receiving always receiving notifications for reviews. (grumble grumble) If I do not reply to your review, it is not personal - I probably have no idea it was left. I do try to check every time I update, though, so there's that...**

**Also, even if there is a long gap between updates here, I am _not_ going to just leave this collection. If I ever do decide to lay it to rest, it will then, and only then, be marked complete. I've been working on some of my original one-shots, which is one reason why Toss is suffering, but I will always come back to it.**


	24. Detected

"He's highly sensitive, Mr. Palpatine, Mrs. Palpatine," the nurse said, holding the tiny newborn boy. "As you know, the Jedi recruit..."

She got no farther, as Cosinga Palpatine held up a hand. "Of course the Jedi may have him," he replied pompously. "Who are we, of the ancient House of Palpatine, to stand in the way of our son?"

Mrs. Palpatine's face creased with sorrow, but true to form, she did not protest. The nurse handed the baby to her, to be seen and named, and went off to send a message to Coruscant.

When two Jedi showed up several days later to retrieve the Force-sensitive infant, the records for Palpatine, Sheev, were updated, and another child was sent off to be trained in the ways of the Light Side of the Force.

* * *

**You would not _believe_ the research just to write four two-three sentence paragraphs. o_0**


	25. Trust Your Feelings

"Just this time, Master," Anakin said forlornly, tagging behind Obi-Wan. "Just...let me come too. I have a bad feeling about splitting up this time..."

"So do I," Obi-Wan agreed unexpectedly, and turned, placing a hand on his former apprentice's shoulder. "Wait here, I'll comm the Council. Perhaps we can convince them to let you come with me."

Anakin nodded, shifting his weight and standing in the same spot, watching as Obi-Wan, a few feet away, spoke to Masters Yoda and Windu. A few minutes later, Obi-Wan strode back with a broad smile. "You've got one hour to be ready," he ordered, and with a small answering grin, Anakin ran off.

* * *

"How uncivilized," Obi-Wan said in disgust as he pulled himself to his feet. Anakin withdrew his saber from what was left of Grievous' body, smirking.

"That wasn't so hard, was it, Master," he said cheerfully. "I told you I needed to come along!"

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed, then skewered the younger Jedi with a look. "But next time, _you're_ the bait."

* * *

_...a few days later..._

* * *

Anakin could barely make his report to the Council, he was so anxious to get to Padmé. His rest in his fighter on the way back to Coruscant had been completely uninterrupted by nightmares of any type, and while he was certain he would've felt it if anything had happened to her, he was eager to check for himself. Glancing absently from one side to the other, he jogged up to her door. Dormé met him, cautioning him to silence with a finger to her lips even before he entered, then waved him through to Padmé's bedroom. Walking carefully to not disturb her, he got inside - and felt his jaw drop. Padmé looked up at him with teary eyes and a smile on her lips, an infant in each arm. Creeping across the room, Anakin bent over the bed, brushing his finger across the cheek of first his son, and then his daughter.

* * *

"You - you won't even _fight_?"

"Fight you?" Palpatine looked astonished, benevolent, kindly. "But what will happen when you kill me? What will happen to the Republic? What will happen to Padmé?"

"Padmé..." Anakin stared. Palpatine didn't know that she'd given birth - survived. The old man went on.

"When I die, my knowledge dies with me. Unless, that is, I have the opportunity to teach it...to my apprentice..." Blue eyes peered at Anakin keenly. It did not take much acting on the Jedi's part to appear utterly stunned. The most coherent thought he could form was that he would need backup - which meant he need to get _out_.

"I...I don't know what to _do_..." Mental shields in place. Reach in the Force. Be calm.

Palpatine wasn't letting go yet. "Anakin...let's talk." They moved, Palpatine thrust a glass of water at him before continuing. "After all, Anakin, you are the last man who has a right to be angry with someone for keeping a secret. What else was I to do?" Seating himself, he continued to blabber - excuses, for hiding, and manipulating the entire civilized galaxy. Anakin didn't listen, stretching out to the Force to keep himself calm.

"Meditate on it," Palpatine finished with a deceptively kindly smile. Mechanically, Anakin rose, taking his leave.

It took him less than five minutes to return to the Temple - speeder rules were for losers, and Anakin Skywalker was not a loser. Striding into the Temple, he marched straight up to the Council chambers and shoved the doors open, ignoring the wave of shock that rolled over him. "Palpatine is the Sith Lord," he announced without preamble. The astonishment that met his entrance was nothing to the pure shock that met his first words.

* * *

A team of five Masters, plus one Knight, marched down the hallway to Palpatine's office. Obi-Wan Kenobi put his hand on Anakin's shoulder as they approached. "You've done the right thing," he murmured.

Anakin nodded decisively. "I know, Master."


	26. Predictable

In Darth Sidious' not-so-humble opinion, his apprentice was a failure. Not that he wasn't more than happy to still be on this side of the Force, but Darth Vader should've committed treachery by now. His loyalty was a most deplorable shortcoming - as Anakin Skywalker, he had remained devoutly loyal to Obi-Wan Kenobi - despite being held back by the man - until he switched his loyalties to Amidala. Then he hadn't killed that pesky Senator until he had switched his fealty to his new Master. Now, it had been more than twenty years, and still his allegiance lay - not with himself, as befitted a proper Sith - but to his Master. Palpatine was beginning to feel a bit like a failure as a Sith Master.

Nonetheless, his apprentice remained predictably faithful. Therefore, he was not surprised when, during his seduction of young Skywalker, red plasma prevented green from slashing right through the aged Emperor's chest. He was, however, extremely surprised when the red retracted before the green moved away. He had foreseen Skywalker's _ability_ to kill him - the brat wasn't actually supposed to _do_ so.

Someone had finally come along to win the Sith apprentice's loyalties away from his Master.

* * *

**Yes, Rex, I _love_ averting Star Wars crises. :D**


	27. Tragedy Strikes Back

**As many of my readers have no doubt noticed, I tend to prefer humorous or at least happy scenarios for Toss of the Coin. However, there are many, many opportunities for it all to go bad. Skipping over all the numerous attempts on Padmé's life during Phantom Menace and AotC, we'll go straight to RotS. No particular continuity here, they're unrelated.**

* * *

Obi-Wan sat in the medical facility on Polis Massa, head in hands. He had been too slow, delayed too long by Anakin. Padmé was dead, her children - a twin boy and girl - with her. It was a dark day for the galaxy, indeed.

* * *

Despite the shrill, insistent, almost panic-stricken beeping and rocking of the little R2 unit, the golden protocol droid shuffled off after the red R2 unit and the tow-headed boy without a backwards look.

* * *

Surrounded by Tuskens, unarmed and terrified, Luke Skywalker fell in a faint at the feet of one of the Raiders. A swift plunge of the gaffi stick ensured he would wake no more.

* * *

"An elegant weapon." Ben sat down, watching as Luke - unsure of his new toy, intrigued and curious - activated the lightsaber and gave it a few, experimental swings. That was all it took.

* * *

"You don't need to see his identification papers," Obi-Wan murmured, waving his hand in a half arc.

"Yes, we do," the trooper insisted, and bodily hauled young Luke out of the speeder. "Papers, now!"

* * *

"I've been looking forward to doing this for a long time, Solo," the Rodian gloated.

"Yes, I'm sure you have-" Han Solo got no further. Ever.

* * *

"This isn't like flying your landspeeder, kid, if we don't get the right coordinates, we'll end up flying through a sun or an asteroid field," Han Solo snapped. Too busy scolding the green, wet-behind-the-ears farmboy, he didn't noticed his finger slip on the keypad.

* * *

"What's he saying?" Luke asked Threepio, as R2 rocked and shrilled.

"He keeps repeating 'she's here, she's here,' although I have no idea who he means." The fussy golden droid turned to his smaller counterpart for a moment before turning back to Luke. "He says, the Princess."

"The Princess!" Luke rocketed to his feet. "Well find out where she is!"

After a long, tense silence, Artoo gave a long, sad bloop. "Oh dear," Threepio said fretfully. "He says...she's been terminated."

* * *

"That shot was one in a million, kid - now let's get out of here!" Solo's voice came jubilantly over the comm. Fifteen long seconds later, six giant green beams lanced out and across space - twin explosions lit up the cosmos in a sparkling display of pure energy.

* * *

"What is it, girl? Do you smell something?" Luke turned, only to be clouted across the face by a Wampa. He never woke up.

* * *

Grappling lines frozen in their coils, the Speeders had no way to stop the AT-ATs on Hoth. It was a bitter, bitter defeat, with the loss of the brilliant Rogue Squadron and the Princess Leia, as well as Han Solo and Chewbacca the Wookiee.

* * *

It wasn't much fun, hanging around in the wet, smelly cavern and waiting for the space slug to open its mouth again.

* * *

"Well, Calrissian? Is he alive?" the Dark Lord intoned.

The dusky-skinned man looked up, face full of grief. "No," he said miserably. "He did not survive the process."

* * *

"Search your feelings, you know this to be true," Darth Vader ordered, hand still extended invitingly.

Luke did. He decided he wanted no part of it. Staring into that emotionless black mask, he let go. There was no vane on the bottom to catch him.

* * *

Jabba chuckled evilly as his rancor finished its latest meal.

* * *

Jabba chuckled evilly as his preferred Sarlacc finished its latest meal.

* * *

Palpatine chuckled evilly as his new apprentice took the place of the old, worn-out one.

* * *

**And now that you're all good and depressed...**

* * *

"It was too easy," Leia said darkly.

"You call that easy?" Solo demanded, outraged.

"They let us go," the fiery princess insisted. "They're tracking us."

"Not this ship, sister," Han said smugly.

"You sound very sure of yourself," the petite brunette challenged.

The smuggler smirked and flipped a lever. A strange electrical current, similar to static, swept through the ship and he grinned offensively at her expression of discomfort. "Built-in bug and beacon disabler," he explained smugly. "And by built in, I mean I built it in."

* * *

**26 follows, 14 favorites, and 66 reviews - have I told you guys recently that y'all are awesome?  
**

**Rex: feel free to suggest ideas! I can't guarantee I'll use them, of course, but I'd be more than happy to consider them - I run dry on ideas all too often, anyway.**


	28. Treachery is the Way of the Sith

**You know those days where you have plenty to get done but can't seem to do it? Handy for writing, aren't they...**

**I have a few guest reviewers to thank: jj12; that is a theme I explore fairly often. Another installment based on that idea is coming soon. Guest; I'm glad you liked it! I do have a tendency to weave wry humor into my work, especially when it's short - and even short tragedies need something to lighten them up.**

**Also, everyone can thank a faithful guest reviewer, Anonymous Rex, for this installment. They suggested a few ideas for me, I'll try and go in the order they posted them: "I have a soft spot for Count Dooku. What if there was a piece where he got wise to Palpatine's plan to replace him with Anakin or something like that?" I too feel that the classy, well-bred and snarky Count deserved a better death than ignoble dismemberment at the hands of a selfish, whiny, rebellious, immature brat.**

* * *

There could only be two Sith. Darth Tyrannus had known his days were numbered from the time his Master had started speaking of making young Skywalker one of them. Not having a death wish, the devious Count had set about shoring up his defenses in preparation for when Sidious would decide the time was right to switch out his apprentices _again_. His slicers were the best credits could buy, and the silence of each of them was guaranteed with a red blade. Dooku had enough evidence now to incriminate his master up to the hilt and beyond, now, it was just a matter of _when._

_When_ had presented itself with the kidnapping of the Chancellor. The usual team was being sent - Kenobi and Skywalker - and Sidious expected his apprentice to confront the two, dispose of Kenobi, and finish Skywalker's conversion, doubtless getting himself killed in the process. Dooku had no intentions of doing any such thing.

The moment the pair landed on the Invisible Hand, an extremely large transmission was beamed to the Jedi Temple. Mace Windu and Yoda, in the Council chamber, reviewed the transmission with mounting horror - copies of writings by one Darth Sidious, the Chancellor's private journal, holographic recordings between a Sith Master and apprentice. The evidence - the sheer amount of evidence, of so many types - was irrefutable.

Palpatine would know something was up, of course. When only SBDs and droidekas were sent in to guard him and Dooku made no appearance, it would be patently obvious that the Count was planning something. The Serenno count had no intention of letting his displeased Master get anywhere near him to double-cross him, however. It was possibly the easiest hostage extraction Skywalker and Kenobi had ever had to perform, but in a little while, it wouldn't matter.

Grievous made his escape from the burning ship in one direction, Tyrannus went another.

When the tattered remains of a ship landed on Coruscant, a high-security team and as many Jedi Masters as could be quickly assembled were standing by to meet it.

* * *

**This...did not work out how I was planning it, but I feel this works better (a long, drawn-out and somewhat awkward conversation between Dooku and Yoda was the first draft, along with discussion about galactic domination and whatnot...I figured that Dooku simply not showing up to fight worked much better. This particular storyline may develop further, later - without Palpatine, the Republic might well crumble, but there'd be no one to give Order 66.)**


	29. Coughy Break

**Idea for this one also goes to Anonymous Rex: "Similarly, a humor piece with General Grievous; maybe, something to do with that persistent cough of his?" It's a dangerous thing, giving me ideas. }:D**

**Rex, I'm not sure if this was what you had in mind or not, but;**

**1\. I've never written Grievous before,  
2\. He's one of those "eh" characters about which I have little opinion;  
3\. When I _set out_ to write humor, I'm not so good at it - I tend to just insert humor when I see an opportunity.  
**

**All that in mind, here is my humble offering.**

* * *

General Grievous _hated_ cough drops. He could not figure out who was behind it - none of his crew seemed like the pranking type, the droids were too dim and the cowardly Neimoidians too terrified of him - but it was a guarantee that if he left his quarters, upon his return a small red lozenge would repose peacefully on his desk. The surveillance cameras in the room faithfully recorded who _brought_ the offending candies - caretaker droids of various types, junior officers, an astromech or two, battle droids, even a tactical droid once - but the mastermind was clever enough to never show themselves.

It wouldn't have been so bad if the cyborg general had been completely incapable of utilizing the cough drops. Even had what was left of his organic body been up to digesting and distributing the medicine, even if the cause of his chronic cough was an irritant and not a badly done meshing of organic and droid parts, he could not simply remove his mask at will to take the lozenge. What appeared to be an act of kindly concern was nothing more nor less than a vicious taunt, and it was slowly but surely driving the already volatile general's sanity meter up through the yellow to the red.

He became accustomed, over the two weeks of the maddening prank, to seeing it there. Upon entering his quarters and confirming the presence of its new resident, he would howl a bit, throw some things around, then discard the offending drop and get to work. It was always waiting for him, it was never delivered while he was in occupation. Therefore, when the astromech tootled into the room, burbling softly to itself, he paid it little heed. Doubtless, it was there to repair some minor malfunction he hadn't noticed, sent by a cleaning droid or some such. It was not until it extended its claw arm, grasping a translucent cast-plast cup that he really noticed it - for in that plastic cup, was a little red oval.

The door to General Grievous' quarters slammed open, and a small blue and white astromech zipped across the hallway as though propelled strongly by an external force before it crashed into the wall behind it. Cast-plast cup flew off to one side, cough drop to the other, as the door slammed back shut behind the infuriated cyborg. Chunnering angrily to itself, the little droid righted itself and rolled off, giving its dome a shake as though to clear it.

After that, the appearance of the offending cough drops became more sporadic, before ceasing altogether. General Grievous had two full days of peace, and was just beginning to relax, temper slowly cooling. On the third day, the door to his quarters opened without his authorization, and an entire _battalion_ of regular battle droids entered, endlessly chorusing their automated response of Roger, Roger and each clutching in its left carrying appendage...a plastic cup, with a single red candy.

* * *

Grievous was dispatched to Utapau with the understanding that he was In Disgrace, and perhaps dispatching a Jedi or two would help get him back in the Good Books of Higher Up. He himself did not care what the Confederacy Senate thought of him, he just wanted to kill a Jedi to blow off some steam.

(It had not amused him when a cough drop had been glued to his desk with super-strong adhesive. After a single period of free time staring at it, he had ordered one of the hapless ensigns to come and lick it until there was nothing left. The general was as unhappy about his new desk decoration as the decoration was unhappy about the necessity of lying flat on his stomach on a hard, cold durasteel desk and licking a gluey cough drop. Luckily for all involved, it only took about a single shift for the cough drop to melt away to nothing, and the Neimoidian had let himself into the sickbay with a perceptible air of relief.)

"Prepare to die, Jedi scum," he sneered, activating two of his lightsabers.

"Oh, I think that won't be necessary," Kenobi said easily. "I have a secret weapon."

"I do not fear you or your _secret weapon_," Grievous scoughed.

"Excellent." The Jedi definitely sounded amused as he pulled something out of his pocket. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind holding it for me, then." He threw it, and while the Separatist general did not take the bait and catch the item, he got a good look at it as it fell at his feet - a small, innocuous, perfectly innocent, endlessly malevolent red oblong disk. With a howl of animal rage, Grievous attacked.

* * *

**I know, the title is terrible. I've been on a bad jokes roll recently.  
**


	30. Nothing to see here -move along

**This one is also courtesy of Anonymous Rex: "As I said before, I loved the chapter with Obi-Wan and Ventress. Another idea popped into my head, where Anakin and Padme somehow run into Obi-Wan and Asajj; sort of a "I won't speak of this if you don't" kind of thing." I had _such_ a cackle when I first read this idea, and at the mental image it produced. **

* * *

Obi-Wan did not look up as a familiar presence slid onto the stool beside his, but he smiled behind his beard. "Good afternoon, Asajj," he greeted quietly.

"Kenobi," she acknowledged, waving over the serving droid and ordering her usual drink. "On leave again?" she asked, after placing her order and receiving the vessel.

"Yes." He absently swirled the liquid in his own tumbler, the two of them remembering the first time they met at Dex's Diner.

* * *

Obi-Wan had returned to the Temple after being captured by Maul and forced to watch the death of Satine Kryze. A silently sympathetic Council had granted him a week's leave, and, adrift and restless, Obi-Wan had found his way to Dex's place. Ventress was there, had heard of the death of the Duchess of Mandalore, had instantly figured out the Jedi's feelings for her when he drifted disconsolately in the door. In her own tough way, she had comforted him - the sworn enemy of Savage, and therefore Maul, she had understood his position. Having lost everything - Ky Narec, her position as Dooku's preferred assassin, the Nightsisters, even her revenge - she understood his pain.

That day, he had cried, no longer caring if Ventress witnessed his weakness or not. Though she had not wept, the wounds in her tightly bound heart unclenched and shed tears of blood, bringing peace on their heels. For the first time in a very long time, she had felt the touch of Light.

They had met at Dex's diner every day for the rest of Obi-Wan's leave. Even after they'd gone their separate ways - he to his missions, she to her bounty-hunting work - they'd kept in touch. It was not unusual for the two to meet for lunch when they were both on Coruscant, or if their paths just happened to cross whilst they were gallivanting about the galaxy.

* * *

The meeting today, no matter how casual it appeared to outside observers, was no coincidence either. It had been a year since Satine's murder, the pain of her loss long since released into the Force. Though nothing was official, Kenobi's soul quietly thrilled when Ventress was around, and the action-oriented woman found peace with the serene Jedi. A spark of camaraderie, ignited on a stolen ship by shared red lightsabers, fanned by shared grief, had grown into something more.

The Besalisk proprietor of the small greasy café had enough sense not to tease his friend about the continuing relationship between the former Sith acolyte and the Jedi Master. Still he kept his eyes open, and occasionally had a quiet rich chuckle to himself over it.

Each had ordered their meals and now sat side-by-side in companionable silence. Conversation would come after eating, a friendly barbed banter and information swap concluding with a tentative date for meeting again. For now, sating their hunger and basking in each other's presence sufficed.

The door opened and another person, equally familiar to both Ventress and Obi-Wan, entered, escorted by a lovely brunette woman. "No one will recognize you here," Anakin was saying reassuringly before stopping short upon seeing two shocked stares pinned on him. "Obi-Wan!" he gasped, aghast, before alarm and anger trickled into his expression. "_Ventress!_"

"Skywalker," Ventress hissed back.

"Senator Amidala?" Obi-Wan asked, stunned.

_Uh-oh_, remarked Artoo.

"General Kenobi," Padmé said weakly. A four-way stare ensued, while Artoo, torn between dismay and amusement, swiveled his dome back and forth between the newcomers and the established patrons. The silence stretched on, tense and shocked. After a moment, Anakin gathered himself, bowed to Obi-Wan, and led Padmé to a booth with careless aplomb.

Swallowing hard, Obi-Wan turned back to the counter, staring at his half-empty plate and busying himself being deaf and blind. Ventress gave him a queer look. "No attachments?" she murmured.

"Ah," Obi-Wan returned weakly.

* * *

**A little note on the previous chapter: Artoo-Detoo came up with an idea to unbalance a certain droid general, snuck aboard the Invisible Hand, and proceeded to reprogram droids/convince organics to displace Grievous' (questionable) sanity. Obi-Wan and Anakin had previous knowledge of Artoo's scheme, hence Obi-Wan's "secret weapon."**

**Further announcement: anyone is welcome to throw out challenges to me (to be accepted at my discretion, credit given,) and guest reviewers can leave me ideas if you so wish. ;)**


	31. Supernova

***happy dance* So glad you all liked it - glad I met your criteria, Rex! And I'm not sure I want to know what you mean by that, jj...**

* * *

"It's beautiful, Master," Padawan Skywalker said in puzzlement. As much as Obi-Wan appreciate the beauty in the galaxy, he rarely sought it out, and even more rarely in a form so perilous to observers.

"Look beyond the colors, Padawan," the Master advised. "What do you see?"

"Um..." Anakin squinted, then huffed in frustration. "Overheated gases rapidly expanding." He turned to his teacher for clarification.

"I see power," Obi-Wan mused, hands clasped in his sleeves. "Raw power, greater than many other forces in the galaxy."

Anakin turned to stare back out the window, and shrugged. "I suppose."

"If harnessed, it could be used for so much good," Obi-Wan said, using his lecturing-teacher tone. "Left unchecked..._undisciplined_...it is catastrophically destructive." The young Padawan scowled, seeing where this was going. Obi-Wan, holding him back again. The teacher in question directed his student's attention back out the viewport. "See that asteroid, there?" he asked, pointing.

"Yes," Anakin said sullenly.

"Watch it," Obi-Wan commanded. They did so in silence for a few seconds before Anakin responded.

"It was consumed." His tone said 'so what?'

"So, in the path of sheer power, is all consumed," Obi-Wan said severely. "It matters not what it is. Asteroids, good intentions, droids - and most especially, the source." There was a pause, then he smiled. "And a ship with two Jedi. I think it is time to go." He turned and went to the cockpit.

Anakin looked back out the transparisteel viewport. The resentment that had twisted through him during Obi-Wan's lesson lessened with the absence of his Master. It was an experience that would he would remember often throughout his life, and one that served him well during his Knighthood and later Mastery.

_Unconstrained power destroys._

* * *

**Extensive note coming up here, consider yourselves warned.  
**

**I've spoiled you all, I'm afraid, with daily updates and even updating twice a day. I'm afraid this will slack off, for awhile. My muse is threatening to go on strike (not gone yet, but filing cabinets are empty and all the paperclips returned to their fantastic little glass-and-magnet holder,) and any chapters I get crammed in before it heads to the Bahamas (or wherever) will be saved up and doled out. (My internal thesaurus, on the other hand, has decided to flow. Their workdays never seem to coincide. -.- ) I'm also toying with the idea of actually taking up serious work on The Other Side of the Coin (the depressing counterpart to Toss.) Not to mention my in-revision-to-be-published original novel, and my in-progress original novel, and my wacked-out-sick-joke of a fanfiction that hasn't even been started, and my gritty-futuristic-society story that's been barely started, and my myriad one-shots running around the place and getting underfoot (seems like Therannosaurus Rex has been drinking of Metaphor Fountain)...and almost a dozen other stories that are on indefinite hold...**

**Also, FanFiction kindly informed me yesterday that I'd reached the 50 document limit and discarded everything I'd written when I tried to save my document. -_- So I need to either go on a purge (!) or wait for 20-something days to clear out room. Yay. Additionally I am struggling to break bad sleeping habits (mainly consisting of staying up till two AM and not getting up until too late AM.)  
**

**All that to say, I will be absent more often now. Should you start having Brievel withdrawals (yes, that's a joke, you're supposed to laugh,) my FictionPress profile link should be on my profile here (and if it's not or doesn't work, my pen name on there is the same as here.)**


	32. Diplomacy Disaster

**Continued from Installment 19, Calamity. Requested by stars90. I don't normally do continuity, nor do I wish to make a habit of it, but an exception here - and maybe there - is acceptable.  
**

* * *

Jedi didn't babble. Nor did they give in to their fear. Council members, especially, did not do either of these things. Nor did Masters with the stigma of "perfect Jedi."

Obi-Wan couldn't help it. His Padawan's marriage was not the worst event to happen to him, personally - a certain battle on Naboo still claimed that honor. Nor was it the worst thing to happen to the Republic in his lifetime - a certain Geonisian battle still claimed _that_ honor. It did, however, rank highly on both lists.

The Council had physically hid their shock very well, but the tidal wave of their emotion swamped Obi-Wan in the Force. Despite his early thoughts on the matter, he paid it little attention, too agitated on his own account to be able to absorb others' emotions. Mace Windu's eternally grim face had grown even more stony, Yoda had harrumphed and swiveled his ears, Plo Koon had rubbed at his face mask thoughtfully, and Kit Fisto and the hologram of Aayla Secura had studiously avoided looking at each other. "How long have they been married?" Windu opened the investigation with characteristic severity.

"No idea," Obi-Wan confessed, still distraught but slightly more grounded with questions to answer. "He didn't say...I knew he had feelings for her but I thought he was controlling them..."

"Controlling them, he was not!" Yoda interjected.

"It's not hopeless," Plo Koon said soothingly. "We could always send to the Corellian Jedi..."

"Advice, we need-" Yoda harrumphed, remembering his own lessons on pride and leaving off his last intended word. "A good idea, that is, Master Koon." Plo's mask hid his smirk. "To the Corellian Jedi, we will write. Until their reply we received, of tantamount concern is the Senator's health. Brought here to give birth, she should be. Monitor her condition and the infant, our healers will be able." He peered at the miserably drooping Council member in the middle of the room. "Dismissed, you are, young Obi-Wan. See Healer Eerin for a headache remedy, you should."

* * *

**My approach to the response of reviews - especially guest reviews - may be casual, and even conversational, but I ask that reviews are at least partially pertinent to the story in question.**


	33. Insidious

**When in the course of deletion events, you accidentally delete a document that never saw the light of published day...*sigh* It was, however, one of my inferior installments, at least it wasn't something good...**

* * *

Anakin was slowly, reluctantly, waveringly, but surely changing his mind about the Chancellor. The dislike between the leader of the Republic and Anakin's own Master was mutual, if veiled save in private. But while Obi-Wan was admittedly uneasy about his charge's friendship with the great man, he never spoke of Palpatine with anything less than respect. The Chancellor, on the other hand, was always undercutting the Jedi Master - delicately, subtly, reluctantly, but then that was how politicians did it. And too, the man's inherent subtlety seemed to require it - even his insinuations, his "freely spoken" concerns, were laced with apologies and gentle suggestions. Anakin wondered to himself how it was that he was so intractable with his Master, yet became a pathetic yes-man around the Chancellor.

He couldn't help wondering if he was being manipulated by Palpatine the same way the man intimated he was being manipulated by the Council.


	34. Happy Lifeday

**That's quite an interesting thought, Loves to Read...never saw it that way before, but you could quite well be right.**

**Your comment made me laugh, Rex. xD I often feel that way towards him myself.**

* * *

"I have a surprise for you, Padawan," Obi-Wan Kenobi said, entering their quarters. "It will involve a trip outside the Temple, though."

Ten-year-old Anakin hopped to his feet, eyes gleaming with the excitement of leaving the Temple, where he still didn't feel quite at home. "Where are we going?" he asked in excitement.

"You'll see," his master replied with a familiar twinkle in his eye. "Or not - come here, Padawan." He brandished a kerchief and Anakin abruptly slowed down, looking suspicious. "I can't have you seeing the surprise early," Obi-Wan insisted, tying the scrap of cloth over his reluctant Padawan's eyes. "Come on, now." Taking the boy's hand, he led him unerringly through the Temple and out to a speeder. Anakin squirmed, whined, complained, and when none of that worked, reached out through the Force to discover their destination only find his way blocked by his Master. Moaning, he flopped onto the seat and resigned himself to waiting.

Luckily, he only had to wait a few minutes before Obi-Wan parked and lifted him out the speeder. They entered a cool building with tile floors, their clicking footsteps echoing before they entered a lift which took them up - Anakin counted - four floors. The lift door opened, and Obi-Wan shepherded him out and down a short hallway before pressing the chime on the door. A second before it opened, Obi-Wan pulled the kerchief off - and a woman opened the door.

"_MOM_!" Anakin shrieked, throwing himself at his mother.

"Happy lifeday, Padawan," Obi-Wan said with a grin. "I think I'll go try out that café downstairs..." He drifted off, leaving Shmi to show her son around her new apartment, conveniently close to the Jedi Temple.


	35. Astromechief

"Chewie!" The Corellian's irate bellow sounded throughout the ship. "Where's the hydrospanner?"

"Arrourrgh!" came the reply from somewhere on top of the Falcon.

R2-D2 gave an evil little electrosonic chuckle to himself and carefully lay down the tool clasped in his extendable claw arm. Hearing the footsteps of an approaching Wookiee, he cheerfully rolled down the corridor and entered the cockpit, just as Chewbacca announced his success.

Less than five minutes later, Solo howled through the ship again, from somewhere up above this time. "_Chewie!_"

"_Rrrrawwwrrrooor!_"

"What did you do with the laser cutter?" Han bawled.

"**_Goooouaarrghh!_**" Artoo, busily reprogramming the dejarik table, swerved out of the way just in time to avoid being smashed into droid pancake by a rampaging and raging seven-foot hairball.

Whistling softly and thoughtfully to himself, Artoo unobtrusively made himself scarce as a triumphant yowl sounded from the cockpit.

* * *

**This is what happens to you when you form the habit of repeatedly saving the galaxy (and generally letting the organics take the credit,) and abruptly no longer need to save the galaxy.**

* * *

**So hard to get into the habit of going to bed early...so easy to slip into the habit of staying up late.**

**Thanks to all my reviewers on my previous section.**


	36. Ripples in the Force

**Hope everyone had a nice weekend!**

* * *

Obi-Wan ran, his best friend's anguished, rage-filled screams still reaching him. Palpatine's shuttle flew overhead, straight for the landing pad where Obi-Wan had left -

"Padmé." It came out an anguished gasp. She was gone, the two droids flat on the ground several meters away. Palpatine's shuttle had already taken off again, rising through the atmosphere, and his plan became appallingly apparent. Uninterested in his now-helpless apprentice, he would take Padmé's child and raise. The Jedi knew well that indoctrination from infancy was the most assured way of securing an apprentice.

An anguished moan from behind broke through Obi-Wan's equally anguished inner turmoil. It was too late for Padmé and her child, but there was still a chance he could save Anakin. Turning back, Obi-Wan retraced his steps.

* * *

Palpatine cackled in delight. Twins - Padmé Amidala Skywalker had born twins, a boy and girl. He was thrilled - there were only two Sith, so he would train both siblings and play them off of one another. When things finally came to a head, he would be guaranteed the strongest to become his apprentice. The Sith Master cackled again. Yes, it was a good day.

* * *

_...twenty years later..._

* * *

Two grizzled men in their middle age strode into the Emperor's throne room. Each was dressed in a light beige tunic with brown robes over, and each carried a lightsaber on his belt. The shorter of the two had grey hairs liberally streaking his ginger, and while the younger retained his brunette locks with little signs of age, he sported a full set of four prosthetic limbs - the latest and best credits could buy. The ginger spoke first. "Your reign of terror is over, Sidious." In an aside to the younger man, he dropped his voice. "We take him _together_, this time."

The brunette waved one mechanical hand airily. "I was about to say the same thing myself."

Palpatine, perched on his throne, laughed gloatingly. "Oh, no, I don't think so." From either side of him, two young persons, armed with lightsabers, emerged. "Meet my apprentices, Darth Shadow-" the blonde male stepped forward, farther into the dim, harsh light, "-and Darth Nightfury." The slightly shorter, brunette female stepped forward. The two were painfully similar, painfully different, and wore identical expressions of consummate hatred, right down to their identical yellow eyes. Igniting their sabers, the twins stepped forward, and with identical twists of grief, the Jedi engaged.

_Leia. Luke._ Their true names echoed in the Force, tormenting the bereaved father. Padmé was dead, there was no doubt, but had left behind her legacy - hopelessly corrupted by pure evil. He hated - yes, hated - to have to kill his own children, but they clearly had no such qualms about ending him. So he gave the four-way duel everything he had, swinging at Leia - who ducked -

"Master!" he cried, appalled, stricken. "Master - I'm sorry - " Quite unintentionally, he had halved the amount of warriors on the Light side. But there was no time for grief, as Obi-Wan's body vanished into the air the twins redoubled their attack, sensing victory. Anakin fought desperately, pain and guilt and despair eating his strength. He could not bring himself to cut down his own children, he could not afford to lose and let the Sith rage unchecked. There was only one option.

He parried a red blade, whirled away, and clicked on a thermal detonator, set to go off in ten seconds. "I'm sorry," he whispered, staring at the twins for the last time.

* * *

**As I told my sister, I was off to "write some wrongs." I originally intended to have at least Luke turn light, and did not intend to kill Obi-Wan (blame my sister for that one, she suggested Anakin accidentally kill him and pull out the classic "I'm sorry, Master" line.) I realized after I killed him, I had no idea how I could successfully turn the twins to the Light side, and found it more convenient to just kill them all off. I'll do something a little happier next time, I promise.**


	37. How Fettching

**As promised. Apologies for the depressant yesterday.**

* * *

"Thanks, _buddy!_" Han Solo staggered away from the half-block of carbonite behind him. Despite his somewhat blurry vision, there was no mistaking that distinctive green armor. "With you and Lando as friends, who needs enemies?!"

Fett held up both hands placatingly. "If we'd tried to stop him, we'd all be dead now. We had to play along - if we hadn't, who woulda gotten you outta deep freeze?"

Han sulked, but didn't argue with that logic, instead attacking his mate's earlier words. "He's no good to me dead?" he quoted complainingly.

Fett huffed, starting to lose his temper. "What was I supposed to say? Oh, Lord Vader," he put on a mincing falsetto. It sounded very strange, with his naturally gruff voice. "Don't freeze him, please, we've flown together since we were kids!" He resumed his normal tone, voice clearly irritated, even in his helmet. "Yeah, that woulda gone over _real_ well!"

"Alright, alright." Han slumped down onto a crate, waving a hand in languid dismissal. "So you had no choice. Got it. Lando in on this little plan?"

"Of course." Boba sat down beside him, pulling a bottle of Corellian whiskey out of his own crate. "Wasn't an ideal solution, freezing you, but we were running low on options. And Vader bought the whole might-not-survive-carbon-freeze act, which upped the advantage. Sorry we couldn't let you in on the plan, but with his ability to read minds..." Fett shrugged, and held out a glass of amber liquid to Solo, who accepted it without hesitance, tipping it back.

"So what's the plan now?" he asked glumly, spinning his glass slowly.

Boba shrugged, pulling his helmet off to sample his own drink. Setting his green bucket to the side, he relaxed back against the side of Slave I. "The idea was to take you to Jabba, collect the bounty, bust you out, and deposit you with your share of the credits wherever you wanna go."

Han gave his friend of twenty-something years a very unimpressed look. "You're very confident you can bust me out," he observed sourly.

Boba gave him a _look_ before returning his attention to his mostly-untouched drink. The two sat in companionable silence for a half a standard hour, drinking and reflecting. Finally Han broke the silence. "That why you were chasing me, anyway? For the bounty?" He sounded even more glum than previously.

Fett shrugged. "Figured I better get to you before any of the other hunters did."

"Thanks," Han muttered. It was hard to tell whether he was being serious or sardonic.

The comm in the cockpit started chirping, and Boba stood, stretching easily. "Probably Lando, wanting me to get Chewbacca's paws off his conniving neck," he observed. "You'd better come."

Han followed his friend to the cockpit, waiting as Fett activated the comm. "Slave I," he greeted brusquely.

Lando sounded vaguely desperate. "Boba, ol' buddy, can you tell the Princess to get her blaster out my side? Ow!" His wince was almost audible, as Chewie howled something rather garbled that may or may not have been particularly vile Huttese insults.

Han chuckled. "Stand down, Chewie, I'm fine. How ya doin', Your Worship?"

"Han!" Leia sounded close to tears with relief.

"I'm fine," he repeated, a little more tenderly. Han Solo did not go in for mush much, but he supposed being frozen in carbonite before the eyes of the love of your life who was way out of your league excused a little sappiness. "Did Lando tell y'all about the full plan?"

"Yes. Han, I don't like it," Leia said, sounding worried, and like she might be crying. Chewbacca whuffed comfortingly in the background.

"He'll be fine, ma'am," Fett interposed. "We're sending in Calrissian now, to infiltrate. Han and I will lay low for a couple months, let Calrissian get established. With the two of us, he'll be in no real danger."

"I'm coming too," Chewbacca insisted.

"You've gotta take care of the Princess," Han objected.

"Luke can," Leia suggested firmly. "Han, I'd feel better if Chewie were there too."

"Luke?" Boba sounded curious. "You mean that blonde kid?"

_Beeeeeep-boop! _A harshly insistent astromech's tones interrupted.

"How insensitive," a prissy voice replied disapprovingly. "Master Luke may not be able to take care of anyone right now, but he will be!"

_Beep tooo beeep bloopth!_ It wasn't hard to translate the main gist of the comment.

"What do you mean, you always take care of him anyway? You arrogant little tin can." There was the sound of metal striking metal.

Fett spoke again, clearly impatient. "The Princess seems fully capable of taking care of herself. I don't know who this Luke is, but-"

"If I may suggest something." Chewbacca sounded rather put out. "Why don't we let the Princess and the cub off at the Rebellion, and then return to Tatooine? Or even hang out with the Rebels until it's time to go to Tatooine?"

"Cub?" Lando echoed, confused.

"Can't be seen with the Rebels if Han's my prisoner," Fett pointed out. "Otherwise, it sounds like a sound idea."

"We'll keep in contact, Your Highnessness," Han said reassuringly. "And we'll be back, good as new, in a couple months."

"No 'we' to it," Boba grumbled. "I'm not getting mixed up in your ideological wars."

"Yeah." Han nodded sagely. "That's what I said, too."

* * *

**I am saddened to report that my updates are about to become both far more sporadic and significantly shorter. My sister is getting a new laptop (it's bright magenta pink! :D ) and I will be working it off. It will roughly double my monthly work, and I want to get it worked off ASAP (I _hate_ being indebted,) so my writing time will be drastically cut down. Anticipate my return to full-time writing sometime mid-end of July/early August.**


	38. Artoo Be or Not to Be

_Hey, Ani, wait up!_ Darth Vader turned, surprised when he could clearly understand the urgent binary whistle, and even more surprised that he'd responded to the long-discarded name. As the astromech pulled up beside him, he resumed his march through the gleaming hallways of Cloud City.

"That name no longer has an meaning for me," he said habitually.

Artoo whirred alongside as casually as if out for a stroll in the park. _Well, that's unfortunate,_ he remarked. _I'm programmed to avoid Darth Vader at all costs, but no one ever thought to tell me to avoid Anakin Skywalker._

Darth Vader sighed. "Why do you wish to speak to me, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be taking care of my son?"

_About that._ For communicating in beeps and whistles, his old friend could sound surprisingly severe. _Way to win his trust. But he's not why I'm here._

"Why are you here?" Vader grumbled.

_I have a proposition for you._ The astromech gave the impression of being simultaneously businesslike and smug. _You want to save the galaxy, no? Ensure peace and security? Prosperity and happiness? Free oil baths? Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera?_

"Is there a point to this?" the Sith Lord growled, stopping and glaring down at his erstwhile droid.

_Yes._ Artoo was definitely irritated. _I realize you may be enamored of your flashy organic powers, and that Emperor Palpitations was the one who unlocked...all this, _his claw arm extended briefly to encompass Vader's black armor, _but do you ever get the impression that he doesn't care at _all_ about the galaxy, only furthering his own power, and that there are better ways to do this?_

Vader glared. "Are you suggesting treason?"

_You always were quick on the uptake, _Artoo noted cheerfully. _I don't know if you remember the Clone Wars, but I do. I remember Dooku, Ventress, those crazy Zabrak brothers - and I remember that all of them wanted power. Well, maybe not Ventress, she was just a nutcase. But Dooku, those horned creatures - they weren't in it for "saving the galaxy." It was purely for personal gain, and your precious Poppleton was - still is - the worst of the bunch. Now you're trying to turn your son - your _son_ \- into Pimpletines II. Is this what you really want for your children?  
_

"Children?" Vader stared, a ringing silence only enhanced by the sound of his respirator. Artoo's beep, when it came, was very small.

_Kriff. It._

"What do you mean, _children_?" the Sith Lord demanded menacingly.

_Twins,_ Artoo said wearily.

"You hid them from me?" Vader bellowed in fury.

_And what a bad idea it was,_ Artoo replied with biting sarcasm. _You finally get access to one of them, and what do you do? Chop his arm off and try to convince him to go all Dark-Side-wacko! And you wonder why you've got a Rebellion on your hands..._

"Both are Rebels, I suppose," Vader said glumly.

_Well duh. Palpatine is a maniac, don't tell me you haven't noticed. __Come on, Ani, you're not stupid. The galaxy is just as bad off as under the Republic, if not worse. The Rebels may be overly optimistic about their preferred form of government, but they're fighting for freedom from fear and oppression - Palpatine is directing his minions to fight and die to increase his own power. Do you _really_ want to aid and abet in _that_ cause?  
_

"I suppose you won't tell me the identity of the other twin." It was intended to come out menacing, but had much more wistful tones.

_Of course not._ 'Sure, change the subject,' Artoo thought derisively._ But t__ell you what. You consider what has been discussed here today, and I'll intercede for you with them._

"How?" Vader scoffed.

In answer, Artoo activated a hologram, stored for over twenty years. "Ani...I'm...pregnant..."

"That's...wonderful. Padmé, that's wonderful!"

"Turn it off!" The Dark Lord's voice was harsh. "Turn it off!"

Artoo deactivated the hologram with a sad little whistle. _I miss her too. _Vader was clenching and unclenching his fists, in an agony of pain and blinding fury. Artoo bumped into his hand gently. _I will tell them about their mother and father. And next time... _The droid paused, and Vader glowered, quashing his emotional pain in the face of his old friend's empathy. _...try not to take a lightsaber to them._

Vader scowled darkly beneath his mask as Artoo began rolling off in the direction of distant blaster fire. "Do not forget, I could take this lightsaber to _you._" Artoo twisted his dome back to twitter a suggestion as to exactly where Vader could stick his lightsaber.


	39. Assassin

***bows* Glad you all appreciated Artoo bossing Vader. I could really see that one happening. And now...**

* * *

Dooku sat staring blankly ahead, fingers steepled. The path of the Sith had turned out to fail in its delivery of its promises, and Dooku had grown tired and old with channeling the Dark Side. Nor was it compatible with honor, duty, and truth, which still counted amongst his highest ideals. He remained firmly in the belief that the Jedi had become stagnated and even corrupted, and that the bloated government they served hand and foot was even more so. His options seemed to be limited, and while indecisiveness rarely numbered amongst his traits, he could all but see the doors slamming shut in his face.

It had been a long time since the Count had touched the Light Side of the Force, but now he reached out, almost tentatively, and was immediately rewarded with a wash of warmth and comfort and energy. Sitting back, Dooku once again considered his options - and this time, the solution was blazingly, brilliantly simple. The only problem was, there was no one he could trust to carry it out - one person, but she would as soon see him dead as the Sith Master. He mentally reviewed the alternatives, but ended up returning to his one, most trusted assassin. Reaching out, he picked up his commlink.

* * *

Ventress' commlink chimed, gathering little attention in the softly humming café. Grumbling softly to herself, she reached down and flicked it on. "Kenobi."

"Asajj," the miniature blue Master greeted with a small quirk of a smile. "Busy?"

"Yes," she responded immediately, not even glancing at her empty cup, the handful of credits beside it, or her blaster in 'vacation' position. "Too busy to entertain bored Jedi, certainly."

"I'll see you in five," he returned, and signed off.

Before she could even replace the small cylinder in her pocket, it went off again. "This is supposed to be an unlisted number," she hissed to herself in frustration, activating it. Her steel-blue eyes narrowed instantly in intense dislike. "You," she hissed, a spike of red-hot fury surging through her. "_You!_"

"Me," Dooku replied calmly. "Asajj, there's someone you need to kill."

"I'm _done_ taking orders from you," she spat, pure venom. He regarded her solemnly.

"If you do not, you will be hunted down and killed," he said somberly, voice cold and measured and gracious as always.

"Threatening me isn't the way to convince me, traitor," she hissed, enraged almost beyond reason.

"I am not," he said simply. "If Sidious triumphs, every Force-sensitive besides his own apprentice will be destroyed, and you will be at the top of the list - for you are a threat to him."

Now that made sense. "Who is it?" she asked suspiciously.

"Chancellor Palpatine," he replied, as sonorous as ever.

The rage came pouring back. "You lost my efforts for your war when you tried to kill me," Ventress snapped in a low deadly voice.

Dooku held up a hand placatingly. "I shall transmit several holos of him and you can run an analysis," he said.

"I can't do it today," she warned. She had a date with a certain Jedi Master that she was _not_ about to miss for some galactic political intrigue.

"The sooner the better, but otherwise, I leave the time frame and all other details in your capable hands." The thing about Dooku is that he didn't give out untruthful compliments - whether he was just trying to lessen his chances of being her next target...again...or not, he truly thought that highly of her planning. Ventress didn't bother with the requisite gratitude.

"Very well. Soon."

"I shall transmit the holos. Dooku out." He vanished, and moments later, she was listening to a voice she knew very well from the HoloNet - generally much more _bene_volent than _male_volent, but still highly recognizable. Dooku was telling the truth - the Chancellor was Sidious.

* * *

Ventress was somewhat surprised, less than a week later, to hear of her former employer's death. She was much less surprised when she heard that it was at Skywalker's hands - both flesh and mechanical, if the reports were to be trusted. She was equally surprised when he went storming past her into the Chancellor's office without so much as a sideways glance, leaving her to wonder idly if she was truly that much a master at disguises or if he was truly that oblivious when not on the battlefield. When he went storming right back past again, looking like he'd seen a ghost or several, she decided it was the latter.

The secretary waved Ventress in, and the assassin stood, entering the room. Palpatine rose from his desk chair with a warm, gracious smile and nod. "Senator," he greeted, referring to the alias listed on his calendar.

It was difficult to surprise Sith Masters - and drawing blade on them could be fatal. Ventress took a more direct course. As she shook his hand, artificial smile pasted on, she gave his arm a sudden yank and as he tilted forward in surprise, her hands when to his head and _twisted_. One satisfying crack later, the deed was done. Letting the body drop unceremoniously to the floor, she strolled out, nodding to the secretary, and wandered with equal unconcern back out into Coruscant's busy streets.

When four Jedi Masters entered the office some ten minutes later, it was to find a very dead Chancellor lying on the floor. Their immediate thought was that someone had set them up to be found with the body - as they were when Kit Fisto yelled out in shock. Indeed, they were delayed for almost an hour as security footage is viewed, and it is discovered that the Senator who visited earlier was from a planet that didn't even exist. Whoever the assassin was, they were certainly clever, and they had rid the Jedi of a terrible threat.

Of course, after the shockwaves of disbelief and astonishment settled, the Senate got right down to electing a new Chancellor - another Naboo Senator, it was noted - who promptly returned the majority of the emergency powers granted to the office of Chancellor to the Senate. Both sides bereft of their political leaders, and led by peace-loving politicians, the Confederacy and the Republic shortly reached a cease-fire in which to talk terms of ending the war altogether. Yes, it had been a good day for the galaxy when Sidious' persona was revealed to the Jedi.

* * *

Ventress was sitting on her usual stool at the bar in her favorite café, sipping a cup of kaffe. A familiar presence came and settled beside her, ordering a cup of kaffe for themselves. She broke the silence, tone light and conversational. "I hate when my employers die before they can pay me."

"Should I even ask?" Obi-Wan inquired wryly.

"Nope," she replied cheerily, and leaned over for a kiss.

* * *

**Muahahaha, I have been turned into a hard-core Kentress shipper! &gt;:D Fear my shipping! FEAR IT! *runs off to plot next Kentress fic*  
**

* * *

**The problems of reading a present-tense fic whilst simultaneously writing a past-tense fic are...well, self-obvious. On the other hand, for any Dooku fans out there, the one I'm currently reading has him coming out on top, and it is literally one of the best fics I've read on here. It's called The Finer Shades of Why, and it's by Yesac, if anyone wants to look it up.**


	40. Verbally Subjective

"Master Yoda, if you're so old, why do you still mix up your words?" the youngling asked curiously. "Haven't you learned Basic yet?"

The old Master chuckled, folding his hands atop his cane. "Learned it, I have," he agreed. "I can speak properly, if I so choose. But -" he poked the youngster with his stick "-this way, think, you must. Help you retain my words, it does."

The youngling thought about this for a moment, then nodded sagely. "Make sense, that does."

* * *

**Ah Rex, you have seen _nothing_ yet as far as my shipping...I have one in the works now that may be interesting...**


	41. While on the Subject of Verbs

**Guest, glad to see someone else picked that up. ;) I've had this one written since I wrote the other one, and while I don't think I'll expand it, at least right now, I'll keep it in mind for when I run out of fresh ideas. **

**Note, the youngling isn't necessarily the same. xD  
**

* * *

Cha Saae was ready to pull out all his green-tinted hair. It had been only a matter of time, and now it had happened - the youngest initiate in the Katarn clan, a promising Mon Calamari female, had started putting the verb before the subject when she spoke. The clan Master could only hope the others did not pick up the habit.


	42. You've Got a New Message: Reply?

**And you thought my last Kentress installment was bad... Oh, the things my mind produces at 1:30 AM...through 3 AM...and on to the next day...  
**

* * *

"This isn't funny, Anakin," Obi-Wan fumed, glaring at the screen of the datapad in his hand.

Anakin smirked. "Yes it is. Come on, Master, you should really get out more, see the sights...live a little. Women love a man in uniform, or so I've heard," he added devilishly.

"And you'd know from personal experience?" his one-time master asked pointedly.

Anakin did his best to look injured - with little success. "You know me better than that, Master!"

Obi-Wan shook his head in exasperation, letting that particular tack slide. He strongly suspected that Anakin's particular interest didn't care for the uniform of an army, anyway. "This is preposterous - Jedi don't form attachments, and they certainly don't sign up for a dating site!"

"Aw come on," Anakin said, moving around to peer over Obi-Wan's shoulder at the profile outlined on the pad, smirking at the number of hits it had already received. "I didn't out-and-out say you were a Jedi - didn't list your name, or a picture, or anything. It won't kill you to meet a few girls, hang out, have some fun."

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Obi-Wan muttered dourly.

* * *

A HoloNet dating site would not have been Asajj Ventress's first idea for espionage, but once you thought about it, it wasn't the worst she'd ever heard. Ironically, it had been given her by a captured clone trooper, slated for execution. In typical Republic fashion, he'd had some silly quip about her saying goodbye to his online girlfriend for him the next time she logged on to Galactic Couples Network. Ventress hated that sort of flippancy in prisoners - it was the kind that could easily get one's head removed from one's shoulders.

That night, she realized that if clone troopers were frequenting online dating sites, there could be hundreds of thousands of air-headed girls out there, all gathering endless supplies of seemingly meaningless information on the Republic and no one even realizing it. It would be the perfect cover. Retrieving her datapad, she directed it to Galactic Couples Network, irritably tapped away the proud proclamation that they served Republic, Confederacy, and neutral parties equally, and started scrolling through the lists of lonely males.

Asajj Ventress hadn't known love since the death of Ky Narec. She did not despise love as did Dooku, Sidious, the Jedi, Grievous, and just about anyone else with whom she came into contact - she simply did not have time for it, or anyone who would care about her as she could care about them. She disdained most sentient males, but as she skimmed over the list, her quick search slowed as her interest was occasionally snagged by a profile. About halfway down the page, one caught her eye and intrigued her immediately - instead of the usual photos of muscular humans or Twi'leks, or the occasional white-armored, strangely hairstyled trooper, this was a simple picture of the Coruscanti skyline. Interests listed were a good debate, quiet contemplation, the occasional duel, (duel? That bespoke lightsabers,) hand-to-hand combat... It was a most puzzling list, if Ventress didn't know better, she'd say it was a Jedi. But Jedi didn't date.

Clone troopers, on the other hand, did. An evil smile curved her mouth. It would not surprise her at all if a trooper, growing desperate, impersonated his Jedi general in order to generate more interest. Well, she could play to that.

Opening a new tab, Ventress promptly went to the GCN homepage - again irritably discarding the political notice - and went to sign up. She uploaded as her profile pic a holo of a wide-eyed, elaborately made up and scantily dressed Twi'lek female that had been on the datapad of some captured political leader on some insignificant little planet. She artfully described herself as a "down-home Republic cutie," posting the most brainless and shallow interests that came to mind and added a few more, somewhat grainy holos of dubiously done-up Twi'leks with similar skin tones and markings to her avatar. Clones weren't interested in intelligence, they wanted looks, so she would deliver. On a sudden stroke of inspiration, she added a tantalizing line to her profile, designed to draw in any troopers: _Why do we have to fight the Separatists? Why can't we all be friends? _Yes, that ought to catch the attention of any self-righteous Republic drone.

Returning to the profile that had caught her attention, she posted on the message board. _hey, ur profile looks interesting! ;) drop me a line? _Mission accomplished, she signed off for the night - without bothering to say goodbye to the trooper's pathetic girlfriend - and lay down to get some sleep.

* * *

"_Anakin!_" When Obi-Wan used that tone of voice, he was well and truly frazzled. Anakin looked up from tinkering on his mechanical hand, trying to remember what he might have done today to deserve that tone. It had been a week since the GCN incident, which had mostly blown over by now. Whatever this annoyance was, it had Obi-Wan nearly at breaking point...which meant it deserved a mental note for future re-use.

"What did I do now, Master?" Anakin asked, flipping shut the access hatch right above his wrist and straightening from his lazy sprawl.

Obi-Wan glared vibroblades at him. "What is my password to that thrice-cured dating site, and how do I disable personal message communications?" He brandished the datapad in his hand at Anakin, who could not restrain a snort at the site of Obi-Wan's inbox, proudly displaying fifty-eight messages with the same title; You've Got a New Message: Reply? The preview added, _you've received a new message on Galactic Couples Net. Click here to reply. _"I am sick of deleting these things only to have twenty more appear in their places!"

"Look at that," Anakin said brightly. "You're popular!"

"Tell me how to turn it off!" Obi-Wan insisted, as Anakin took the pad from his hand and began to read the messages sent.

"Down-home Republic cutie?" he snorted at one near the top. "These people are really desperate..."

"No one joins a dating site unless they're really desperate, or really cheap," Obi-Wan fumed.

"Are we really fighting to save people this empty-headed?" Anakin murmured, reading the profile of the female in question. "Why do we have the fight the Separatists? Why can't we all be friends?" Shaking his head, he tossed the pad back to Obi-Wan, who caught it as though it might sink venomous fangs into him if handled improperly. "I bet even you, the Negotiator, couldn't get through to that one," he added scornfully.

"It is unkind to judge someone's intelligence without prior interaction with them," Obi-Wan said sternly, and purely from habit. A moment later, he regretted it.

"So you think you can talk some sense into them?" Anakin had that look in his eye. If Obi-Wan said no now, he'd never hear the end of it. The Master sighed.

* * *

Ventress was doing a good job of hiding her exultation - not that the droids would care, but she wasn't sure Dooku would approve of her latest intelligence-gathering methods. When she hadn't received a reply to her post on the masquerading trooper's board in three days, she'd given up in disgust. Tonight when she'd logged onto her messages to find out if there were any status reports, new orders, et cetera, a reply had been sent.

Of course. They were arguing back about the 'fighting' line she'd put onto her profile. Reasonably, calmly, rationally, but arguing back nonetheless - huh, maybe they really did enjoy debate. Wouldn't you know, the only trooper to see her profile would be the only one in the entire GAR with any thinking capacity. Still, men were men, and soldiers were soldiers - her dim-witted innocent act and subtly suggestive photos would draw them in. All but rubbing her hands together in glee, she pulled up the reply box.

* * *

"Now I can't get rid of her," Obi-Wan was saying, voice aggrieved, as he slashed his way through droids towards the opposite end of the battlefield. Anakin, by his side, made a sympathetic noise and followed his master's lead, keeping one eye on Ventress at the opposite end of the vast canyon, mirroring them, only with clones. Obi-Wan didn't miss a beat in his tale of woe as he systematically destroyed the inexorable machines. "She's so clingy, and I don't want to be rude..."

"Just gently tell her that you think you're incompatible, and should probably look elsewhere," Anakin suggested. He was feeling a little guilty about the whole ordeal, seeing as he'd set up the account, but the entertainment factor made the inconvenience pale. If he had to bring his smidgen of sympathy to the fore and hide his amusement, he could do that.

Ventress glared down the canyon at the two Jedi, wondering what they were bickering about even as they annihilated her army without the slightest sign of effort. Jedi's bones, how she hated Skywalker and Kenobi...but especially Kenobi.

* * *

It was cold and rainy, damp even inside the tent. The conditions weren't conducive to mechanical tinkering, and Anakin was bored - a feeling exacerbated by Obi-Wan sitting across from him, completely absorbed in typing something up. "What are you doing, Master?" Anakin asked idly, and tried to peer at the datapad in Obi-Wan's hand. His interest heightened when the elder Jedi swiftly pulled it away, then covered by pretending to have been shifting into a more comfortable position. "Are you writing to sunnyside-up again?" Anakin added, glee dancing in his voice.

"It's the polite thing to do," Obi-Wan muttered.

"It's been _six standard months_," Anakin pointed out. "You could've gotten rid of her already, if you really wanted to." Notably, Obi-Wan didn't reply, just continued to type.

* * *

Ventress felt her spirits lift as she checked her inbox to find she'd received a reply from Vine on GCN. What had started out as a clandestine plot for intelligence gathering had become a mildly engaging pastime, before slowly inching its way up her priority list to factor right below "winning the war." Before joining the Network, she had scarcely smiled ever. Now, she smiled constantly - finding a message waiting for her, reading it, re-reading it to reply to all the conversation points, in the middle of menial tasks as she thought again about the most recent conversation. When she didn't receive a reply for awhile, she'd get moody and anxious, but when it came, it was like a warm dose of sunshine.

Or perhaps a cool rain, she thought sourly. Desert planets that were all rock and sand and hills and gulleys and venomous snakes had rather dampened her enjoyment of sunshine recently. She'd long suspected that her intended informant was actually quite cleverly _mis_directing her, with his carelessly dropped hints about where he'd be stationed next, or where they were headed, or had just been.

On the heels of this realization came the terrible knowledge that she could inadvertently, in any given battle, slay her own friend (she dared not think of him as more.) Bouts of anxiety and nerves had begun to plague her, restlessness, insomnia, and apathy by turns. The idea that she could kill Vine - was supposed to be trying to kill Vine and all his brothers - borderline unhinged her. It was time to request a leave from Dooku - she could plead lack of effectiveness from lack of rest.

* * *

Obi-Wan despised going to the healers, but injuries provided a good excuse to return to Coruscant for a week's leave. Sunnyside-up had informed him that she was on Coruscant for a month, sightseeing, and had responded most favorably to his tentative suggestion that they try and meet somewhere. (Anakin could never know about this. Never.) He was, in his own quiet way, as excited about this meeting with Sunny as her ebullience had shown her to be. So here he lurked, in the back of a small diner in mid-upper level Coruscant, nursing a drink and surreptitiously watching the door for a lithe yellowish Twi'lek to walk through the door. The last person he expected to see come in...was Ventress.

* * *

Asajj's heart hit her boots. She knew that presence in the Force - Vine _would_ choose the one café that that blasted Hutt-slimed sleemo frequented. Well, she wasn't here to fight, not today. Pretending not to notice him, she went and seated herself at the counter, ordering a drink and asking the waitress droid in a low voice if any clone troopers by the name of Vine had been in recently. She was a little surprised and vastly disappointed at the negative answer she received.

Obi-Wan felt like he'd been punched. In the gut. By Anakin. With his mechanical hand. Using the Force. Sunny was not a Twi'lek...Sunny was Obi-Wan's current worst enemy. This, he mused, was why Jedi weren't supposed to have attachments.

Ventress' hand tightened on her glass as Kenobi came over, but she obstinately refused to look up or acknowledge his presence. He stopped a few feet behind her, and murmured something that only her Force-enhanced hearing could catch. "Vine will not be coming today." His presence faded as he exited, leaving Ventress breathless and shocked behind him. Vine sounded like a Jedi because Vine _was_ a Jedi. Vine was the Jedi she hated the most.

* * *

Obi-Wan avoided logging onto his GCN account for days, not wanting to be confronted with a message from Sunny...or lack thereof. He knew Anakin was worried about him, and with good reason - the Council had accepted Obi-Wan's petition to return to action, but he couldn't get away from his team member. Anakin had been appalled when he'd heard that Sunny was Ventress, finally realizing the seriousness of the situation. To his credit, he said nothing about Jedi and attachments, instead keeping a close eye on his master and making sure Obi-Wan was doing okay.

Finally he could no longer put off checking his mail. Reluctantly, Obi-Wan accessed his pad, feeling his heart sink at the message from GCN announcing the presence of a message from sunnyside-up. Hesitating a moment, Obi-Wan opened it up, reading down it with regret for what had been lost. Before he could realize what he was doing, he'd opened the reply box and started to type.

Anakin looked up from his partially dismantled commlink. "You can't be writing Ventress!" he demanded in disbelief. "Master..."

Obi-Wan didn't so much as glance away from his pad. "You know, Anakin, I've been thinking," he murmured, still typing away. "I don't see why Jedi shouldn't have attachments as long as they know how to let go..."

Anakin stared.

* * *

Ventress had put off opening her mail for a week, but the lack of reports was beginning to tell in her battle planning and she couldn't delay any longer. She activated her datapad and signed in, lips twisting when she saw the recent message from Vine. Viciously stabbing at the delete button, her finger slipped and opened the message. Despite her intentions, she began reading, even catching herself formulating replies. When she reached the bottom, Ventress opened the reply box, but instead of replying to any of the running conversation points, she demanded hotly why Kenobi found it amusing to perpetuate this farce as though each other's true identities had never been discovered.

He must have been online, for when she finished reading a battle report and returned to her inbox, a reply awaited her. His answer caught her off-balance.

_There are not many bright spots in life for a man on the front lines, especially if that man despises bloodshed and war anyway. My conversations with Sunny were one of those bright spots - with her wit, acute observations, and intelligence, it was a pleasure to converse with her. It was not a side of you I had ever seen, and now that I have, I am loathe to simply let it vanish from sight again._

Asajj hesitated a moment, then opened the reply section, typing in her responses to his second-most recent message.

* * *

Dooku's betrayal, when it came, was almost welcome. Now she had only to worry about Kenobi's life, instead of ending it. Not, of course, that Ventress was one much for just sitting around and worrying...

Cody and his boys learned to ignore the twin red lightsabers flashing alongside the blue one of their general. Skywalker and the 501st had a little harder time, but ignorance was an acquired skill, and they were good at acquiring skills as necessary.

* * *

**I apologize for any mistakes herein - my sister flat-out refuses to proofread Kentress (hates CW Obi-Wan, hates Ventress, and finds Kentress disturbing,) and I have never been a member on a dating site nor do I have social media - all of that was guesswork and what I've gathered from my surroundings.**


	43. Misdirections

**I apologize for the lack of update yesterday, I was having the Day Straight from Hell and the little time I was on the computer, I wasn't in the mood for proofreading. (And then I wrap it up by not waking until noon today, _ack!_)**

**So anyway, here it is.**

* * *

Cody's shooting was extremely erratic. The men under his command seemed to be taking that as permission to shoot equally wildly. Obi-Wan Kenobi had never seen his division so poorly performing - but then, he'd never seen them shooting at _him_, either. Not that they were shooting exactly _at_ him...the only way he'd be in any real danger was if he moved from his current spot. He had no idea why they were aiming in his general direction, but he supposed he'd find out in a bit.

Cody ran out of ammo first, having started shooting first. He had never been so clumsy in loading his blaster - but waving it around haphazardly while doing so could hardly be conducive to proper reloading. The remainder of the 212th seemed to take their commander's actions as permission to be as inefficient in reloading, and frankly, Obi-Wan couldn't understand it. What Cody started shouting minutes later didn't help, either.

"Surrender, Jedi scum!" he yelled, dropping his power pack, then lumbering after it as it skittered across the rocks. Bending down to retrieve it, he dropped his blaster before bumping helmets with another of the battalion. "Traitor to the Republic! Attempted assassin of the Chancellor!"

Ah. That explained things, most nastily. Only two offices could've given the order for the troopers to turn on their Jedi generals - the Jedi Council, or the office of the Chancellor. Cody had most helpfully provided him with which one. Now, all that remained was to get out of there before they ran out of excuses not to shoot him.

"Look at that!" Obi-Wan cried, pointing behind the troops. As one, they turned, jostling each other, and he wasted no time picking his way across the uneven ground, barely registering their voices behind him.

"What is it?" "Where?" "Did you see something move?" "Where is it? Should we shoot it?" "What are we looking for?"

Obi-Wan made the top of the sinkhole, before looking back down at his troops - his former troops - below. Unable to resist, he paused a moment, using the Force to eavesdrop.

"Commander, we've lost the Jedi," one of the clones reported.

"Find him," Cody ordered, sweeping an arm to indicate the dusty hole in which they stood. The troops promptly busied themselves peering into cracks in the rock walls, lifting up small stones to check underneath, and in general studiously checking everywhere Obi-Wan could _not_ be. The sight would've been equal parts pathetic and comic, had it not been so touching. They had no choice but to follow orders, but they could be creative about how they did it. They could be loyal to those who'd won it, simultaneously being loyal to those who forced it.

"May the Force be with you, my friends." Obi-Wan turned away.


	44. Bad Teeth

Darth Vader's hatred for Obi-Wan never abated - in fact, it was renewed, twice to three times daily. Every time, in fact, he had to take care of his teeth.

In the first place, his helmet and oxygen deficiency made taking care of his dental health difficult at best. Then there was the fact that every inch of him hurt - lips and mouth included. Putting together his inability to be without his mask for more than a couple of minutes at a time when not in his hyperbaric chamber (which was not equipped with a sink - this seemed a grave oversight now,) plus his pained face, brushing was out of the question. Indeed, he had been tempted multiple times to simply deal with whatever eventual tooth pain might come, but then he visited or was visited by his master and was graphically reminded of the necessity of dental care.

So he had had a mouthwash specially formulated that he would rinse with a few times a day in some of his precious few minutes in free...ish...air. Still a hassle, but still easier then brushing, and still preventative. Even if it did taste disgusting.

Yes, he really hated Obi-Wan.


	45. Underlings

"You can't be my father!" Luke shifted his grip on the icy durasteel post, appalled. "You murder your own subordinates!"

"I do not." Darth Vader, perched relatively safely on the catwalk, sounded huffy. "I eliminate the insubordinate!"

* * *

***wince* Yes, that's all there is to it. *dodges projectiles and holds up hands placatingly* The next one will be longer, I promise. I've had literally no time for writing recently (sigh) and am just pulling from my stored documents...half of which I can't remember if I've posted or not...but Darth Real Life is organizing some now so I'll see about stocking up on new material soon, I promise.**


	46. Can't

Rex couldn't do it. I'd thought him a coward, weak, but now, looking at their tiny faces, so full of fear, now so full of hope, I can't do it, either. I still hear, echoing in my mind, Padmé's weak cries, the wails of our daughter - I still know it's a girl - oh, _our daughter_. Her face rises in my mind's eye, she's is beautiful, with Padmé's hair and Padmé's eyes, Padmé's passion for freedom and democracy, my fire. She is beautiful, spectacular, and I love her almost as deeply as her mother. I _can't_ let them die.

And I look down into the bright blue eyes of the child, tugging lightly on my pants, terror and hope mingling in his eyes, and I can't slay him. An invisible hand reaches into my chest, twisting my heart, eliciting a moan of pure agony from me. My family...

The clones are gunning them down, the younglings, they're running and screaming, trying to hide, the older initiates trying to defend themselves and their younger counterparts, and I can't stand it. All the death, all the Darkness - it's not giving me power, it's drowning me. Padmé's screams are growing louder, ever louder, my head is pounding with her anguish. My vision is closing in an ever-narrowing tunnel, the wash of pain and fear around me sweeping me away, and I can't hold it together anymore. The ground rushes up to meet me, as I fall, a marionette whose strings have been cut.

* * *

I wake up, head pounding, my mouth sour and dry with residual fear. I sit up, looking around - Obi-Wan stands beside the bed on which I'm lying, his face grey. He has aged fifteen years. Behind him, Knights, a Master or two, and Padawans hover, looking at me as if I'm a bomb, about to explode at any minute. When I speak, my voice is hoarse. "What happened?"

"We were hoping you could tell us," Obi-Wan replies, reaching down to take one of my hands. My skin is papery-thin and dry, I notice. "The recording in the Chancellor's office...Anakin, are you alright?"

It all comes rushing back. Palpatine, Darth Vader, Padmé...our daughter...my inability to save them, my weakness..."Padmé," I gasp.

"She's fine." Obi-Wan goes greyer yet, as though having a terrible suspicion confirmed. "As are her son and daughter."

"What have I done?" It comes out as a moan. I can't believe I betrayed everything for which I stood, for no reason. I can't cope.

"You have been deceived, manipulated," Obi-Wan says softly. "But you can be saved." He turns away briefly, beckoning to someone I can't see before turning back to me. "There's someone you should see..."

Padmé enters, carrying two white bundles. She leans down, kisses my cheek, before laying one of the bundles beside me. "This is Luke," she murmurs. "I think you should name our daughter, though...since you always knew it was a girl..."

Oh, they are beautiful, these little ones we made together. Precious, innocent - just like the Temple younglings - I whimper again. Luke gazes up at me solemnly, but I cannot bear to touch him. How can I, after what I've done?

"Anakin." It's Obi-Wan. "I do not know what you remember of that night...but only against a single Jedi did you raise your saber. The murders that took place - none of them were committed by you. You were deceived, but you did not ever truly leave the light."

I didn't know. I remember seeing so much blood, everywhere. But that can't be real...lightsabers cauterize. Blaster wounds don't bleed. I remember taking water from Palpatine after he revealed his identity as Sidious - was I drugged? Obi-Wan would not lie to me - I did not murder. Whatever I meant to do, I did not murder.

I reach out, brush little Luke's forehead. He blinks solemnly at me, and I look again at his sister. I can already see in her the vision I had seen in the Temple...

Suddenly, I can. I can do this. I can survive. I can take care of them, and I can be the Jedi I'm supposed to be. I can't give up now.

"Leia," I whisper. "Her name is Leia."

* * *

**Feel free to dish out ideas any time. =) Guest, I did note your idea - it'll take me some time of bouncing it around in my head to come up with anything. I'll have to read up on Dathomirian culture, for one thing. I've been thinking for awhile about doing one with Savage, but I really have no ideas of where to take it...but yes, I do take ideas, any time. I will never guarantee use, but I do consider every one.  
**


	47. Monster

I'm sorry, truly I am. I never wanted to be this - murderer, monster, thriving on the blood of innocents. I never wanted this. You could say I chose it, but I only wanted to save my brother - she would have killed him, you know. She made me kill him...she made me a monster for her own uses. He tortured me, made me a murderer for his own power. All my life, I have been a slave - to our women, to our women's master. Betrayed and double-betrayed, furious and frightened. I betrayed, too, betrayed my betrayer, and ran. Now, I have no option but to run, and murder, and run again. I have nowhere to go. I am hated, feared, wanted. Animal they call me, beast, monster. They are right, but oh, can't they see I'm hurting, afraid and lonely? I cannot go back home, not now. She would kill me. I cannot go back to him, he would kill me, too.

I have lost everything - my home, my life, my brother. My good, kind, strong, gentle brother. They made me kill him. Now I have nothing.

And so I kill, because killing is all that's left to me, that rush of heady Dark power that comes with the ending of a life by my hand. That Darkness briefly fills the gap in my soul, and so I keep giving into it, even though it tears the hole larger every time it dissipates. I am trapped, eternally, in a vicious cycle, and my spirit is raw, bruised, bleeding...torn. I, in my pain and desperation, keep tearing it ever larger, with my murdering...

And I'm sorry. Truly, I am.

* * *

**I realize this may not have been what you had in mind, Guest, but it is, at least for the moment, the best I could do.  
**

**I also made myself cry while writing it...it didn't help that I was listening to Across the Stars while doing so...*sniffle***

**Rex; I'm working on one for Number 2 right now. 1 and 3 don't sound like they could be short one-shots, and while I'd love to read stories with those plots, I don't feel I could do them justice writing them.**


	48. Tasting the Fruit of Victory

**Rex; None of the Oppress brothers really had any choice, their story was heart-rending. And I'll see what I can think up.**

**ILDV: Glad you enjoyed. =)**

**ZXc: It was written from the point of view of Savage Oppress, after his escape from Dooku, before hearing of his brother Maul.**

**This section was by request of Anonymous Rex. Enjoy...**

* * *

Emperor Palpatine _loved_ peaches. To the inexpert, this may have seemed incongruous - they may have thought fried electric eel, or piranha pie, or cream of cactus soup more fitting to his evil image. The Sith Lord knew better - peaches were the perfect metaphor for the Dark Side. The colors of flame, deliciously sweet fruit, and a poisonous heart of stone, peaches epitomized a Sith's power. It didn't hurt that they were easy on decaying teeth, either.

He had celebrated his two greatest victories with peaches - first, his murder of his Master and subsequent induction as Master of the Sith, then the death of the Republic and Anakin Skywalker and birth of the Empire and Darth Vader. It seemed only fitting that he celebrate his third great victory - the disposal of an old, worn-out apprentice, induction of a young, powerful one, and annihilation of the pestiferous Rebellion, all in one stroke - with peaches, too. Therefore, as soon as he had dispatched Vader to the insignificant little moon below, he called down to the vast kitchens of the Death Star and ordered a vast amount of peaches, to be delivered immediately to his throne room.

Only the best was brought for the Emperor, and he enjoyed them immensely. Already, he could taste the certain victory, in the sweet juice of the ripe fruit. His timing, was, as usual, impeccable - he had just finished his last treat when he felt the Force-wielding duo depart from the piffling little base below. Satisfied, he summoned a cleaning droid to remove the pits before turning to his vast viewport to watch the shuttle approach. A slight shudder went through the Death Star, and behind him there was a clatter as the droid dropped some of the pits. Swinging around, the Emperor hissed in anger, shooting bolts of lightning from his fingertips towards the hapless droid. "Bumbling worthless piece of scrap!" The poor cleaner trembled slightly as it was fried before, all circuits shorted, it fell to the floor. Palpatine gestured to the Red Guards standing around. "Get this thing out of my sight."

Scarcely had the droid been dragged out by its metal-phorical heels, than the 'vator opened to reveal Vader and son. The two stepped into the room, and Palpatine, gloating, welcomed his new apprentice. The time had come. Indeed, the ensuing half-hour proceeded exactly as the Sith Lord had foreseen - Skywalker's gradual capitulation to his hate and anger, his destiny, and the fury with which he struck at his father. "Good," Palpatine cackled, starting to descend the staircase to the catwalk below. "Good, young Skywalker, your hatred makes you po-OOWW-"

Skywalkers both turned to watch in frozen fascination as the crumpled old Sith Lord tumbled down the stairs, followed merrily by a dozen bouncing peach pits and a bowl in which they'd been resting, forgotten, in the shadows on the stairs. Father and son winced simultaneously at the crunchy finality when the ancient Emperor came to a final rest. A few tardy peach pits, carelessly heedless of the venerable ruler's motionlessness, bounced impudently down to lose momentum and fall still on his body. The throne room echoed with shocked silence as the two sole remaining inhabitants stared at the crumpled black heap.

A blast from a Rebel ship rocked the Death Star slightly, and cyborg sire and cyborg progeny staggered a little before catching each other's arms to restore their balance. The Emperor had no such recourse, and - aided by his slick shimmersilk robes and the insidious peach pits - slid straight into the open reactor pit. Eyes wide as saucers, Luke stepped forward to peer into the chasm, only to be yanked back by his father just in time to avoid being irrationally eradicated by irradiation. Irritably, Vader tugged his shell-shocked son farther back out of danger.

"I think we'd better go, before your Rebel friends blow us into peach purée," the Sith Lord suggested, and retrieved a commlink from his utility belt, activating it. "Piett," he barked into it. "We're coming in. Order the troops to disengage the Rebels - we have what we came for. Palpatine is dead and young Skywalker is with me."

"At once, my Lord," a slightly tinny voice echoed back, and Vader pocketed the comm, before pinning Luke with a stare.

"You will come with me," he rumbled to his wayward offspring. "We shall negotiate a treaty on behalf of the Empire and the Rebellion, and you shall tell me more about your sister."

"Well, her name is Leia," Luke began as they exited the chamber, which resounded with the Dark Lord's yell of "_**What?!**_" well after both Force users had left.

* * *

**I was just bouncing ideas off of my sister for a TPM AU fic - and boy, do I wish I'd had the camera primed and ready. xD She didn't much like my idea of Anakin being Obi-Wan &amp; Padmé's son, and Shmi being Anakin's paternal grandmother. xD Her face...she makes that face relatively often, but only joking around, and never so extremely. xD xD xD**

**And yes, I went bad and showed y'all some of my oft-employed wordplay here. &gt;:D This is what my poor sister has to deal with daily. Rex, I hope my hastily-cobbled together piece sates your hunger for mundane Palpatine deaths. xD  
**


	49. Worth Fighting For

"We're fighting to protect _this_?" Anakin waved a disgusted hand at the roomful of dissipated Senators, assembled for a charity ball. Supposedly to raise funds for care of injured troopers, the Senators seemed to be competing to see who could be most decadently dressed and escorted and indulge the most freely. It was a despicable spectacle.

"Please you, the party does not, hm?" Master Yoda suggested, hobbling over. "A different one, you would prefer, yes? Tomorrow, the créchlings' tea party you will attend. Tell them you will be there, I will."

Anakin blanched as the ancient Master teetered off. "He's not serious, is he?" the young man murmured to Obi-Wan, the original recipient of the complaints. "He can't be serious."

"I'll go speak to him." The ginger-haired Master drifted after Yoda purposefully, catching up quickly. "Master, are you sure that's wise?" he asked hesitantly, stroking his beard. "He's been very moody lately, he might upset the younglings..."

"Go, he will," Yoda said firmly. "Reminded of why we fight, he must be. Look up to him, the younglings do, with genuine admiration, not the calculated political expediency of those around us. Soothe him, the little ones might - so much time I spend with them, why think you?"

"An...interesting idea, Master," Obi-Wan said pensively.

"Go, you will too!" Yoda insisted firmly, with the tone of one inspired.

"I?" Obi-Wan asked, alarmed, then winced as his elder drove home his point with a sharp poke of the ubiquitous gimer stick to Obi-Wan's kneecap.

"Go, you will," Yoda repeated. "Do you good also, it shall."

* * *

Anakin gave his master a glance of sullen dismay before palming the door open. The shouts, squeals, cries, and laughter of the créchlings within echoed out, and Anakin grimaced as though being sent to his doom. Obi-Wan gave him a gentle shove in the back, and the two elder Jedi entered.

Instantly they were accosted by ecstatic younglings and dragged to a table already set with rows of small plates, saucers, and cups. They were thrust into seats at the head of the table, slightly crooked, bent, and sticky flower crowns bestowed upon them. Anakin bore it with a look of long-suffering, but Obi-Wan smiled behind his beard, beginning to see what Yoda had meant. The little ones clustered around the adored Jedi, showering them with their own brand of small-child affection and admiration.

All in all, the tea party was a success. Though immediately after departing the nursery, there was a tacit pact between the two to never speak of it again, Obi-Wan noticed the spring in Anakin's step and the long-absent twinkle in his eye. He would also not soon forget the image of his former Padawan, decked in flowers and beads, dancing in a ring with a small Rodian, two humans, a Tholothian, and a Wookiee and singing a simple nursery rhyme.

* * *

**I'm sorry for the delay, I have been so...so...so busy. Still am, really - this is the last of my backlogged material and I have no idea when I'll be able to write again. I won't forget y'all, I promise, I will get back when I get time.**


	50. Reversions

"Send Master Kenobi to execute the Chancellor, I will. The death of one of his closest friends at the hand of the other - unhinge young Skywalker, it will. Lure him to our side, it will not fail to do."

"He must not be turned only against Kenobi, my former apprentice," the disembodied voice admonished lightly, swirling through the room and bringing with it the presence of evil. "Send other Jedi to aid Kenobi, and implicate the Order, not just one Master - too easily written off as a rogue. Skywalker _must_ be convinced that the Order in its entirety is wrong...not just Kenobi."

"Send Council members, I will. To turn young Skywalker to the Dark Side, we must not fail."

* * *

Palpatine cowered back in shock as four grim masters ignited their sabers. Kit Fisto, Plo Koon, Mace Windu, and the leader of the strike team - Obi-Wan Kenobi - stood blocking any escape the Chancellor might attempt. He did not seem inclined to do so, holding up his hands in fear. "Master Kenobi!" he exclaimed, eyes on the man in front. "What is going on?"

"Don't play with us, Sidious," Mace snarled, eyes glowing dangerously. "We know who you are. Master Yoda has seen it."

"What?" Palpatine squeaked, blue eyes huge in the light of four glowing sabers. "No! No, you've got it all wrong, I'm not a Sith Lord! I'm just -" - just the Chancellor, in the most powerful position in the Republic, and constantly acquiring more power - "-just an ordinary man! You would've felt it if I were Force-sensitive! Here!" He scrabbled quickly for a small medkit in a drawer in his desk. "You can take a blood sample! I'm not a Sith Lord, I swear it!"

"How do we know you'd not manipulate the results?" Kit Fisto demanded.

The door slammed open, and Anakin staggered in, looking slightly panicked. "Wait! It's not him - it's _Master Yoda!_"

Five people stared at him, appalled. "You have proof?" Obi-Wan demanded.

Anakin held out a commlink in answer. A hologram sprang up, of a little green man kneeling and speaking most damningly to yet another hologram, of one certain Lost Jedi - and afterward, rising, and speaking most sneeringly (and ungrammatically) of one Darth Tyrannus (former apprentice, over me lording it, hm!) Palpatine watched the mass exodus in relieved shock, and left early to go home, take a headache pill, and start drafting legislation to return borrowed powers to the Senate, effective immediately after the war.

* * *

**I have only two sections backlogged after this, and while I've had plenty of ideas generated (TPM rewrite, Jedi Leia, Obi-Wan surviving the Death Star,) and have one of my own (not telling what,) I'm also two days further behind on work than I'd thought and have gotten back into terrible sleeping habits. So I will write when I can, and I will be back - promise. **


	51. Savage's Lullaby

**I seem to have lost the ability to shock my readers as a whole... :s Glad I could use one of your secret requests, though, Rex. xD**

**I have recently become obsessed with the song Mordred's Lullaby, and it immediately reminded me of Savage and Ventress... If you want to hear the original, it's called Mordred's Lullaby, and it's done by Heather Dale. An eerily haunting song...  
**

* * *

**Mother Talzin and Nightsisters:**

Hush, child  
The darkness will rise from the deep  
And carry you down into sleep  
Child, the darkness will rise from the deep  
And carry you down into sleep

**Mother Talzin:**  
Guileless son,  
I'll shape your belief  
And you'll always know that your Master's a thief  
You won't understand the cause of your grief  
But you'll always follow the voices beneath

**Ventress:**

Loyalty loyalty loyalty loyalty  
Loyalty loyalty loyalty only to me

**Mother Talzin:**  
Guileless son,  
You must obey her  
Avenge our sister on Dooku the traitor  
He will know pain for his puppeteer behavior  
You must make him pay for how he betrayed her loyalty

**Ventress:**  
Loyalty loyalty loyalty loyalty  
Loyalty loyalty loyalty only to me

**The Nightsisters:**  
Hush, child  
Darkness will rise from the deep  
And carry you down into sleep  
Child, the darkness will rise from the deep  
And carry you down into sleep

**Ventress:**  
Guileless son,  
Each day you grow older  
Each moment I'm watching my vengeance unfold

**Mother Talzin:**

For the child of our people, the flesh of our soul  
Will die in deliv'ring vengeance untold

**Ventress:**  
Loyalty loyalty loyalty loyalty  
Loyalty loyalty loyalty only to me

**The Nightsisters:**  
Hush, child  
The darkness will rise from the deep  
And carry you down into sleep  
Child, the darkness will rise from the deep  
And carry you down into sleep

* * *

**Just heard about Christopher Lee yesterday...may he rest in peace.  
**


	52. His Father's Son

**I wasn't intending to publish a section today, I was going to leave it until tomorrow, but you've all been such good little readers I couldn't bring myself to be so Sithly (even though I was accused last night of being evil. Granted, I was. Am. Depending on my mood.) Luckily for y'all (if you choose to view it that way,) I'm in an expansive mood today. So I decided to let y'all have the section I wrote weeks ago...one of my better ones, therefore (not my hastily cobbled-together drabbles, or dribbles, as it may be.)**

* * *

Ben Kenobi's speeder screeched to a halt in a cloud of dust even larger than usual. He sprang out, holding a piece of his robe over his face but otherwise ignoring the pervading sand as he fled into the house. "Owen! Beru!" He rarely raised his voice, even more rarely panicked. He could think of few reasons Lord Darth Vader would be coming to Tatooine, and such a rare event might well deserve a smidgen of alarm. "_Owen Lars!_"

"What is it, Kenobi?" demanded the moisture farmer, stepping into the courtyard.

"Vader," Obi-Wan said succinctly. "Get Luke."

Beru had appeared in the doorway, paling at the news. Now she turned and hurried down the hallway, calling. "Lu-uke! Luke?" Moments later, she reappeared, grey-faced. "He's gone."

* * *

Anakin had detested riding on animals, preferring speeders. Lord Darth Vader had retained this trait, but no speeders suitable for his purpose had been available, so he and his entire battalion were mounted on a motley mixture of dewbacks, eopies, and a handful of banthas. He was reflecting sourly on perhaps having to execute the lot of them once this whole raid was over, so the image of his indignity didn't spread, and how unsuitable a black suit of armor was to the twin suns of Tatooine, and how very much he hated this planet. The sooner they accomplished their purpose and left, the better.

"Sir!" came a voice from behind him. "A life form at ten-o'clock! Appears to be a human child..." the stormtrooper finished, tones distinctly puzzled under the dehumanizing helmet.

"Not our problem," came the disinterested reply from the captain of the troopers, but Darth Vader abruptly halted his deplorable beast and held up a hand. He felt the ripples of surprise from behind him as the troopers hastily reigned in their own mounts. Dismounting, Darth Vader approached the child, who blazed like a beacon in the Force. He was small, no more than five years old, tow-headed and blue-eyed - a son of the desert. He clutched a tiny model of a T-16 to his chest, his lip trembling, but he bravely held back tears as he wandered over the dune. He looked up in surprise as the monstrously tall, black-clad figure approached him.

"Are you a droid?" the child asked, and beneath his mask, Darth Vader blinked in surprise.

"No," he rumbled in response after a few seconds' pause. "I am a cyborg."

The little boy screwed up his face in concentration. "That means you have mechanical parts, doesn't it?" he said, although it was as much to himself as Vader. "Grampa Cliegg had prophetic legs. He wasn't my real Grampa, of course - it's kinda complicutted. I'm Luke Skywalker, what's your name?"

"Skywalker?" Vader echoed in disbelief. "Cliegg Lars?"

"Yes!" the child confirmed joyfully. "I live with my Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru," he added, gesturing vaguely behind him. "Uncle Owen's kinda stern, but Aunt Beru's nice, I know she loves me. But I'm lost," he finished, lip trembling again.

"That you are," Vader agreed dryly, rethinking his original plan of annihilating anyone even remotely connected to Anakin Skywalker, personified, in this case, by Owen and Beru Lars. "We shall take you back - but why don't you live with your parents?"

A wash of sadness swept over him. "They're dead," little Luke murmured, scuffing the sand with one foot. "They died when I was born." He sounded lost, forlorn, and Darth Vader knew for a fact that while his mother might be dead, his father was not.

"Come," he said, hesitating a moment before awkwardly putting out a hand to the child. "We'll take you home." As he led his son - for now the Dark Lord was convinced it was he - back to the dewback, he reflected that he would indeed have to eliminate the entire battalion for the sake of his reputation.

* * *

"Kenobi," Darth Vader rumbled menacingly as he and his men approached the homestead. The Larses and his former Master were all standing outside, and he was darkly amused by the stark horror on each of their faces. He got no further, interrupted by Luke.

"Aunt Beru!" the boy shrieked joyfully, sliding from his perch in front of Vader and running over to his aunt. She knelt in the sand to clutch him close, shaking violently, but he tugged her towards the dewback. "Come meet Lord Vader!" Luke urged, almost dancing. "He found me in the desert and saved me! He's really nice!" So excited was young Skywalker that he didn't notice the taut silence of the adults, or the funny expressions on his uncle's face or that of the man beside him. He didn't even notice everyone's flattened disbelief in the Force. It would've been fair to say that every adult present had no idea how to react to this last statement.

Darth Vader dismounted. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lars," he said perfunctorily, and skewered Obi-Wan with his gaze. "Kenobi! You have three minutes to explain _this_." He waved a hand at Luke, who took offense.

"I don't even know who he is!" the boy objected, and everyone looked at him. "Who is he, Uncle Owen?"

"Perhaps, we should go inside," Beru suggested timidly, hoping possibly in vain to avoid bloodshed but willing to work for it, despite its low odds.

Three pointed gazes from the men around her pinned on the stormtroopers, still waiting patiently atop their various transports, and one adoring gaze glued itself to her face. "Let's go inside," Luke echoed.

"I wish to speak to Kenobi, _alone_," Vader said menacingly. "Out here."

"Oh." Luke squinted at the stormtroopers. "Then they'll all have to come inside." He hurtled forward and gave an extremely startled Lord Vader a hug around the knees (as high as the little boy could reach) before the diminutive juggernaut sped for the stairway down into the house, beckoning to the troopers and his aunt. "Come on! But don't track in sand!"

Owen hung back outside, but a pointed glower from Vader and a subtle nod from Ol' Ben sent him inside after his wife and step-nephew. Vader rounded on the Jedi. "He is my son!" he thundered, furious! "What is he doing here? Why was he not brought to me? How did he survive?"

"Yes, being protected, you killed younglings and the Empire kills sensitives, and his mother lived long enough to give birth," Obi-Wan said crisply. "I knew that if he were given over to the Sith, he would be twisted and destroyed - if not killed outright." He gave his former apprentice a keen glance. "Kill me now if you will," he said quietly. "But think twice about destroying your son."

"What are you doing so close to him?" Vader asked suspiciously. "Indoctrinating him with your Jedi lies?" He wasn't sure whether he'd be angrier about the boy being taught or not.

Obi-Wan gave him a haughtily disappointed look. "No," he returned, his tone conveying 'you moron.' "Protecting him."

Force, how he hated being indebted to Kenobi. He pointed. "Go." Wisely, the Jedi left, and Darth Vader stalked down the stairs into the homestead. Unprepared for the low ceilings, he bumped his head on the doorjamb as he entered the room where everyone was gathered. Not that it mattered much, his reputation was a shambles already anyway. The stormtroopers were all outwardly silent, standing around in bored positions - doubtless they were busily gossiping on their handy helmet comms. Owen was standing in the kitchen, watching and listening as Beru, sitting at the table with Luke, scolded the boy for wandering off. Luke was drooping, but a mere second after Vader had entered the room, he perked up bright as the suns overhead and slid off his chair, running to the Dark Lord.

Beru blanched, but bravely stood. "Luke, don't annoy Lord Vader," she said tremulously, and the boy turned a beaming face upwards.

"I won't," Luke replied, self-assured and still clinging. "He's nice."

Vader sighed. This was going to take some work.

* * *

**Alright, I confess. I'm a complete sucker for good fluff/adventure L/V stories (especially when they involve Firmus Piett and/or - thanks to Malicean - General Veers and/or his son.) However, I seem to have run out, so if any of you know of any good ones...(hint hint.)**


	53. Moving On

"Aunty Soka!" The tiny, bald, and faintly blue-tinged little girl squealed with excitement, tearing out and across the short space to the stunning Togruta approaching, arms already up to be picked up. Ahsoka obliged, laughing.

"Oh, my, Sage, how you've grown," she exclaimed warmly, swinging the child onto her hip. "I really ought to visit more often."

"Yes, you should," the girl nodded eagerly, before twisting to face the doorway from which she'd exited. "Mommy, look! Aunt Soka's here!"

"So she is." Tall, bald, slightly bluer than her daughter, the woman lifted herself from leaning against the doorframe and sashayed forward, nodding once. "Ahsoka."

"Asajj." There was a hint of reservation in both women's tones - despite their brief alliance, and relatively regular contact afterwards, neither had ever quite forgotten nearly three years of doing their best trying to kill each other - with lightsabers, blasters, insults, and whatever else could come handy. Quite possibly, they both longed to pick the banter back up right where they left it - but for the sake of Sage, and their allies, it was better not to.

"Come." Ventress turned, waving a languid hand in a beckoning motion, and led the way inside.

Sage slipped down as soon as they were through the door, running into the next room. "Daddy! Aunt Soka's here!" her excited voice could be heard.

"Is she now." An oh-so-familiar voice replied, and a bald man with the features of a Mando'ad came out the study, grinning at Ahsoka. "Hey, little'un."

Ahsoka laughed ruefully. "I'll always be little to you, won't I, even as a full adult with my lekku at my ankles," she observed.

"Yes," said Rex with a grin, reaching down to pat his excitable daughter's head. "Might as well get used to it."

Ventress waved her hand at a nearby cabinet, summoning glasses and two bottles of liquid from the cooler. Pouring some type of deep purple juice for her daughter and alcohol for the adults - Ahsoka noted gratefully that she's included in that count, despite the elders' continuing stigma of her being 'little' - she placed the glasses on the table and helped Sage sit. "Did you bring a message?" she asked expectantly, holding her daughter still with the Force briefly to convey the very obvious message - _behave_.

"Not much of one, this time," Ahsoka admitted, placing a datapad on the table. "Just a bit of a briefing, no action calls or anything."

"We _are_ retired," Rex said with a grin, reaching for the 'pad.

"Mhm," Ahsoka agreed a bit sardonically, as Asajj laughed.

"Don't play with us, Rex, we know you're dying to get back onto the battlefield," his wife observed affectionately.

"And you're not?" he replied, grinning.

Ahsoka winked at Sage, across the table. "I'll babysit your kid."

Sage squealed, wriggling. "Play princess, Aunt Soka?"

Ventress scowled at their visitor. "You do not get to steal our daughter, Jedi."

Ahsoka smirked back, standing up and holding out her hand to Sage. "Come on, kiddo, let's go play princess while your parents read the report I brought," she suggested.

Sage hopped down from the table eagerly. "Okay, Aunt Soka!"

* * *

**I appreciate all the suggestions for L/V stories - sadly, I seem to have read most of them. :S I will look up the ones I have not yet, thank you. Also, I have received an influx of suggestions - I'll try and use them all, however, one or two may slip through the cracks (I'll try not to let them) and they almost definitely won't be in chronological order. Also, it may be awhile before I get them up.**

**Rest assured, I will continue writing, and using y'all's lovely ideas. =) Until then, here is an old draft of mine that I found and decided to publish before starting back in the Original Trilogy.**

**(Also, I've received a request for an continuation of last section. If you _really_ want me to continue it, I may change my mind about my original answer of no. But you have to tell me. Also, I'm most seriously considering writing a fairly lengthy Vader/Obi-Wan/Leia/Luke fic...yea or nay?)**


	54. Legacy

***throws hands up in surrender* Okay, okay, longer story! I get it! Will do...look out for Priorities, coming soon to a profile near you.**

**This one was requested by a Anonymous Rex, who wanted one where Obi-Wan survived A New Hope. Elinor Nightshade wanted a Jedi Leia...that one's still in the works and coming, but here's a Dark Leia for you. =)**

* * *

It had been twenty years since the death of the man once known as Anakin Skywalker on the hellish world of Mustafar, and twenty years since the rise of the Galactic Empire. On Tatooine, an old hermit known locally as Old Ben and was crazy as a bedbug - poor old fellow, thought he was a Jedi - and his young friend and "pupil," Lars' boy Luke, were bidding Mister and Missus Lars farewell before heading off to Mos Eisley in company of two battered droids. The cheerful blue-and-white astromech bore inside him a desperate if poised message from the Viceroy of Alderaan. Nearly twenty years ago, a horrified Obi-Wan had received a message from a stricken Bail Organa, detailing the abduction of Leia by Palpatine immediately following an official visit and the simultaneous murder of Breha. Even grief-stricken, the Senator was as duty-conscious and appearance-conscious as ever, and had instructed Obi-Wan not to break cover for little Leia, to instead stay with Luke. And so it was an advanced Padawan and an ancient Master who bought passage aboard the rattletrap _Millennium Falcon_ off of Tatooine, headed for Alderaan and Princess Winter.

Alderaan, when they arrived, was no more. It had been replaced by a moon-sized space station, which reeled the _Falcon_ in like a mackerel. Obi-Wan slipped off to disable the tractor beam as his somber and intelligent - if slightly reckless - Padawan, escorted by Chewbacca and Han Solo, slipped up several stories to rescue the imprisoned Viceroy. Mental shielding firmly in place, Obi-Wan made it back to the Falcon first, keeping tabs on an equally heavily shielded Luke. Darth Nightfury, sensing something amiss but unable to get a lock on it, strode through the durasteel corridors, seeking the presence of the Jedi. When she felt a wave of the Force - a vast mind trick - from the docking bay several floors below him, she knew right where she could find them, and knew with equal certainty that she would be too late. As expected, she was, but it was not a total loss - a tracking device had been affixed to the flying junkheap, which would lead them straight to the location of the Rebels.

As expected, the _Falcon_ stopped on Yavin 4, a suspected location for Rebel activity. Tarkin and Nightfury went at once to the verdant moon, and Nightfury, a lover of flying, engaged in the battle personally. Ahead of her, she felt a blazing bright presence in the Force, as well as a more sedate one flying wingman to the lead Rebel. On the other side, was barely a spark in the Force - and one easily disposed of by clipping their wing.

Her finger was just closing on the trigger when that Hutt-slimed, thrice-cursed (not to mention scruffy-looking) pirate Solo appeared out of nowhere, disposed of her wingtroopers, and clipped _her_ on the wing. This turned out quite fortunate for her, considering the lovely explosion that followed, but was still an unforgivable crime. How dare that nerfherder shoot her!

* * *

The Sith Apprentice swept through the icy Rebel base on Hoth, seeking the young Jedi Skywalker, who she now knew to be her twin brother. She had barely reached the dilapidated Corellian cruiser, captained by the dilapidated Corellian, when she felt the serene gleam of the older Jedi eclipse the younger, and after a brief firefight in which her own troops were soundly drubbed, both Jedi left the system simultaneously, leaving her frustrated and in the mood to break a few heads.

Boba Fett, a most disagreeable but efficient specimen, entrapped Solo on Cloud City of Bespin for her. Handed the cocky, scruffy smuggler on a silver platter, as it were, she extracted a most agreeable revenge whilst baiting a trap for young Skywalker. As expected, he arrived right after she handed a frozen Solo off to Fett and the blasted Wookiee had escaped, along with the conniving administrator of the city and the endlessly annoying protocol droid.

The duel was surprisingly difficult, they were quite evenly matched - clearly, he'd been training - and Darth Nightfury determined she'd have to resort to trickery to win. _The weakness of the Jedi is their compassion_, her master had told her, _so use it_. Use it she did, faking an injury and bowing over in false pain. Skywalker started forward, hand outstretched to aid her - and lost it. He gasped in pain, quite real, and backed out onto a gantry. She followed him out, disclosing their close relationship - he knew, already, of course he knew, why wouldn't he! - and offering to rule the galaxy with him. He, in turn, pleaded with her to reject the Dark and come with him, to which she returned a scoffing reply. His own response to her invitation was silent and infinitely more dramatic - he dropped from her view, quite literally. By the time she made it beneath the vast city, Skywalker had used his commlink to call his droid to bring his starfighter and was long gone.

* * *

She had several months to contemplate her relationship with her brother, and contemplate it she did, right up until he was brought to her on the Force-forsaken little moon of Endor. Again, he tried to persuade her to come to the Light Side of the Force, and this time, there was a shade of regret as she told him that she could never turn. Persistent, he continued to wear at her, all the way into the throne room of the despicable Emperor, sitting like a fat old spider in the midst of his tangled, dark web. At the end, she could not bring herself to let this monstrous old man slay her own kin - and in that act, took the first step on a journey she'd thought herself incapable of taking.

And on the shuttle back down to Endor, newly Knighted Jedi, Luke Skywalker, stripped her of her Sith identity and gave her a new name - one that was her, purely her. Leia Skywalker, she became, and it was beautiful, and it fit. She would be Leia Skywalker. Three Jedi, there were - a Master, a Knight, and a Padawan.

* * *

"When bring balance, we said you would, to have a child on each side of the Force, we did not mean!" A poke with a ghostly gimer stick to a ghostly kneecap caused a spectral wince.

* * *

**I'm thinking about removing Section 52 and sticking it in a separate story with its couterparts...yes or no?  
**


	55. Flying Solo

The man once known as Darth Vader - and who humbly(ish) asked to be called Patrem - had been invaluable in the New Republic. With little to no interest in ruling, he had made a deal with the government of the New Republic - for his complete cooperation in whatever they required of him, he would be granted pardon. Commander-Jedi Luke Skywalker, hero of the Alliance, had stepped up and diplomatically suggested that Vader - Patrem - be released to Skywalker on parole. This had satisfied everyone, though it left more than a few slightly mystified.

That he had been present for the Emperor's death was somehow common knowledge. That peach pits had been involved was another prevalent rumor, though dismissed by many - it had started with the pilots of Rogue Squadron and their cronies, and everyone knew better than to trust rumors started by that band of scoundrels. (That wasn't to say that there weren't those who remembered that Luke Skywalker, leader of the Rogues, had also been present at the Emperor's death.)

That he had, thus far, fully lived up to his word, was equally common knowledge. He had revealed many secret outposts of the Empire, disclosed military secrets, volunteered passcodes, and had been instrumental in convincing many of the military leaders to swear allegiance to the New Republic. He seemed truly determined to earn the clemency for which he'd pleaded.

No one knew the truth - really, he could scarcely care less about the public's opinion of him. There were only two people whose good opinions meant anything to him - he had one, and all that he had done, was to gain the other. Slowly, it was working - slowly, his daughter was warming up to him. What had, he suspected, done the most in his cause, was his behavior during his first meeting with Han Solo after the whole Bespin fiasco. Solo had been understandably upset, catching sight of Patrem and promptly starting to call him every epithet in the former smuggler's repertoire - and since Solo had been in almost all the undesirable places in the known galaxy, that list was quite extensive. Patrem had silently folded his hands and waited until Solo was done, then, unused to apologizing to anyone save Palpatine, awkwardly replied that if there was anything he could do to make it up to Solo, for the smuggler-turned-general to let him know. This had completely flabbergasted all three others present, slightly discomfiting the Dark Lord. The pure shock on Solo's face, the open amazement in Leia's, and the brilliant grin on Luke's made it completely worth it, however.

Solo had never taken him up on the offer, but it had gone a long way towards thawing Leia's demeanor towards her biological father. That Patrem remained as civil every time he and Solo encountered each other - which was often, what with both men's high positions in the military - had scored points in his favor as well. Solo remained wary of the man he still knew as Vader, but never again engaged in such a verbal onslaught of abuse.

A year after Endor, Luke and his father vanished from the public eye, not returning for another full year. The public was astonished by the change - the Monster in Black no longer, Patrem had become the Man in Black. Having received intensive medical treatment and reconstructive surgery, Patrem could function as a human being. Luke had thrown a celebratory family dinner - family meaning, to Patrem's dismay, Leia, Solo, and the Rogues, as well as Luke.

It was not as terrible as Patrem had expected - Luke had disclosed his father's former identity to his friends, and the Rogues all but worshiped Anakin Skywalker. The discussion turned to piloting, and by the third course - and second glass of Corellian ale - the atmosphere could almost be called jovial. Leia was secretly quite happy to be seated next to Han, across from Luke, and knew enough about the insides of ships (thanks to the Falcon) that she was more than able to keep up with the conversation. As the night got later, and Han became generous with his stash of whiskey, old piloting tales became drinking songs from the various homeworlds of the assembled company.

Luke, responsible Jedi as he was, was the first to rise next morning, slipping past the piles of snoring pilots heaped about in his living room and into the kitchen to start brewing caf - they'd all need it, certainly. He had only been up for about ten standard minutes when his sister joined him, looking little the worse for wear. "Morning," she whispered, with that warm smile reserved for him.

"Morning," he whispered back, handing her a cup of the hot strong liquid. The stood in companionable silence for awhile before Leia spoke again.

"Do you think he'll remember that he gave Han his blessing last night?"

"I think it's less will he remember, and more will he rescind it," Luke answered after a few moments' consideration.

"He will not." They turned to look at the sound of their father's voice, and Patrem came farther into the room. Luke waved a hand, retrieving a cup for the older man, as Patrem continued. "Solo is a good man, and even if one's beginnings are humble, one can become more." His voice was somber, eyes distant as he poured himself some caf. Sitting at the kitchen table, he continued. "That he loves Leia is obvious, and his position will allow him to be able to provide her a good home."

"You're so old-fashioned," Leia remarked, but without heat.

"I have seen the death of two governments and the birth of two governments," Patrem returned dryly. "I think I deserve to be old-fashioned."

Han stumbled blearily into the kitchen. "Hey," he muttered, watching as Luke called a cup to his hand to fill with caf for his hung-over friend. "I'll never get used to all that Force-y stuff y'all do," he mumbled, sinking down at the table.

"You'd better, if you intend to marry my daughter," Patrem rumbled in amusement, and Han jumped, not having noticed him sitting there.

"Oh. Well. Yeah. Well." He nodded to Luke, taking the cup. "I've been hanging around the kid for how many years now? And I'm still not used to it. Doubt I ever will be."

Luke made a wry face as he heard the Rogues starting to stir in the next room. "How many years, indeed, and I'm still 'the kid,'" he added with humorous complaint.

* * *

**I've received several requests for Vader/Leia fluff. I'll work on it, I promise, but in the meantime, my Leia/Vader fans may want to check out the author TheRealThing, she did several lengthy Leia/Vader stories.**

**Also, I'll re-publish and extend His Father's Son as soon as I think of an appropriate title.**

**I just saw that I have 275 reviews - y'all are _amazing_.**


	56. Couldn't

In the end, he was too weak. In the end, he couldn't do it. Obi-Wan lay before him, finally silent, not pleading, not lecturing, minus his right arm. The man within the body of Anakin Skywalker raised high two blue blades, saw a gleam of acceptance, and sorrow, and pain, and acceptance - always, with the Jedi, the bloody acceptance - reflected in blue eyes, and...couldn't. Couldn't bring down the blades, couldn't end the Jedi, couldn't end the man who had been to him brother and master and teacher and friend, failed at all, yes, but did the best he could. The slaughter of the younglings - gone off with hardly a hitch. Disposal of the Separatists - easier than flying a smooth course. Murdering - _terminating_, not murdering - _terminating_ Obi-Wan...he couldn't do it. He stood, staring down at the patiently-waiting-for-his-doom Master, his chest heaving-

Obi-Wan blinked as Vadakin collapsed in a boneless heap. A short astromech, bearing a slim Nubian blaster set to stun, was placed squarely behind the former Skywalker. Whirling his dome, he pronounced with several shrill whistles, disgusted beeps, and a rude raspberry or two his precise opinions on Palpatine, Anakin's decisions of late, this planet, Obi-Wan's fighting skills, and the state of the galaxy in general before unmistakeably _ordering_ Kenobi to retrieve Master Ani and Mistress Padmé, and get aboard the ship before Palpatine showed up.

* * *

**This is my absolute last backlogged document...so it'll be awhile before any more come forth. However, Priorities will have the first chapter out soon(ish), and I'll also publish the chaptered story based on His Father's Son quite soon (as soon as I decide which title I want to use.) So keep an eye out for those.**

**To my guest reviewers, Guest, I'm glad I could touch you. =) ILDV, nice to see you back again. Rex, I have _not_ read those, that I remember, I shall have to try them. M.A.A.T.E.K, I do try to respond to all my guest reviewers, however, since I have no way to PM them, it has to be through my document. I'm very glad you stopped by, hope to see you again. =)**


	57. Waste of Tine

"No-" Leia reached out, grabbing her friend's hand. "That's the salad fork. _This_ one-" she guided him to the right utensil "-is the dessert fork."

Han, lounging nearby and sipping - or perhaps swigging would be a more accurate term - some of his hair-raising liquor, snorted with derisive laughter. "Ease up, Your Worship, what use has a farmboy got for royalty's flatware? What a waste of time."

Leia shot the lazy smuggler an annoyed, arrow-sharp glance. "It's called _manners_, not that I'd expect you to understand," she shot back. "And he's a member of the Alliance now, not just a farmboy."

"Oh, riiight," Han drawled, lifting his glass in a mocking toast. "Of course, how stupid of me. Of course a _fighter jock_ is in desperate need of snooty, stuck-up, 'manners.'"

"At least he's capable of learning them," Leia retorted, eyes flashing. "Unlike some I could mention!"

"Oh, that _hurts_," Han returned immediately, voice full of mock-suffering. "I'm wounded, Princess, wounded!"

"That's nothing to what you'll be if you keep this up, hotshot!" Leia snapped, lesson completely forgotten.

Han smirked, his cue wide open. "Keep what up, Princessness?" he inquired suavely. "There's all kinds of things I could keep up, or keep up with..."

"You backwards afterburner!" Leia fumed.

Han was momentarily floored before letting out a shout of shocked laughter. "Backwards afterburner? That's a new one!"

Leia opened her mouth to retort - and the door slid open. "Um, boss?" Hobbie poked his head inside. "Wedge sent me to find you, thought we had exercises..."

"I forgot! Sorry, Leia, I'll be back later -" Luke leapt to his feet and hurried from the room, shooing his pilot in front of him and leaving Han and Leia to their fireworks.

* * *

**I _love_ the recommended stories, Rex, thanks! And while I also like the idea of Maul as a Jedi, I don't feel comfortable writing that - I read on either the Clone Wars wiki or Wookieepedia, that it was Kycina, Maul's mother, who gave him to the visiting Sidious to keep him from the slavery of the men of Dathomir. So while I'd love to write the idea, I'd want to get my facts straight first.**

**To everyone else who's given me ideas, yes, I will get to them eventually. I'm just swamped under my schedule for now...**


	58. Imaginary

**Present for y'all! =D Leia/Vader fluff was requested, here is one offering. More may or may not come any time soon.  
**

* * *

No one aboard Lord Vader's various transports knew any of his secrets. No one knew that he was formerly a Jedi named Anakin Skywalker, that he was so badly burned and scarred as to be nigh crippled, that he secretly dreamed of the day he could overthrow the Emperor...or that he had an imaginary family. Alone at night in his hyperbaric chamber, no longer plagued by nightmares, he slipped eagerly into sleep to meet the tiny, precious duo who called him "Father." Whether they were ghosts, products of his tortured mind, or hallucinatory gifts from the Force, he did not know, but he knew he welcomed them when they appeared. The three of them engaged in all sorts of activities, from family dinners to storytimes to him guiding them through his memories of planets to which he'd traveled.

By day he was bad-tempered, looking forward to when he could escape to meditate or sleep, and hopefully find one of his children. It had never occurred to him that there might be twins, although that settled rather nicely his and Padmé's debate about the gender of their offspring. They rarely had too long, all three of them together, before one of them would regretfully be forced to depart. Yet despite the short times, he saw them often enough that he merely desired their presence when absent, instead of pining in bereavement.

There were distinct advantages to having your family inside your head. You did not have to worry about small children being endangered, or seeing things they oughtn't, or long separations. It was well-hidden, even from the Emperor, but Darth Vader was happy. All that kept him doing Palpatine's bidding was his desire to bring true peace to the galaxy, and to make it safe for his children, real or not.

* * *

Leia Organa, as a little girl, had regaled her mother and father with tales of her imaginary brother - she never mentioned her other father, for fear of hurting her own dearly beloved Daddy. Perceptive as she was, she soon noticed that these recitations made her parents uncomfortable, and stopped. Why it made them uneasy mystified her, the only reason she could think of was that they thought she wanted a brother in real life, too. Not that she did - she was perfectly content with her one brother, and their father.

Even as the Princess grew older, and became the ambassador for Alderaan, she clung to her dreams. Their brown-haired, blue-eyed father grew older right along with she and her sun-headed brother, their family remaining as tightly knit as from the very beginning. She and her father often debated politics, when things grew heated, her gentle brother would intervene and her father would end the discussion by ruefully remarking how like their mother Leia was, and how easily he had been defeated in such discussions by his wife.

And the three of them grew ever closer. Despite having to keep her dream family a secret, Leia was happy.

* * *

Luke never spoke, not even once, to his Uncle Owen about his sister and his father. His Uncle did not approve of his fantasies, and he knew instinctively that his dream family would be put down as just another fancy, so he never said anything when Owen was around. He'd tell his Aunt about them, though, every day, recalling everything that had happened the previous night. The kind, understanding woman listened attentively, sometimes even suggesting subjects for that night. As he grew older, wiser, and maturer, he ceased speaking of them so often, but whenever she asked if he still dreamed of them, he would bestow on her his brilliant smile and confirm that he still saw them. Oddly enough, this comforted Beru.

Despite keeping his adored family clandestine, despite wanting to become a pilot, despite being the weakest and smallest of his friends, despite his hatred for Tatooine, Luke was happy.

* * *

Vader stood, hands clasped behind him, watching the _Tantive IV_ streak through space above the dusty yellow ball of Tatooine. He looked forward to detaining the Alderaani ambassador, Senator Organa's young daughter. It was illogical to want to capture the girl, he held Senator Organa in respect and even liked the man a little, despite his misled politics. Still, he hoped to absolve young Ambassador Organa of any connection to the Rebel Alliance - or at least appear to. His reasons for doing so were strange enough, should he have told anyone - her first name was the same as that of his daughter. Perhaps he'd heard it, subconsciously, before he started seeing his children as toddlers, or perhaps it was coincidence. Whichever it was, the name alone was enough to leave him feeling kindly to the spitfire, generous young Alderaani. For all he worshiped both his children, for all their arguments, he almost loved his daughter more.

So when a misplaced shot downed the _Tantive_, Vader felt a stab of horror and alarm. The pilot, whoever he was, was good, managing to save the listing ship and take her down into the atmosphere at a relatively safe angle. "Prepare a shuttle," Vader ordered, turning with a flamboyant flair of his fabulous cape, already ready to go down dirtside. "I will personally see to the capture of any survivors!"

The captain spoke hastily to Communications before crisply reporting, "It will be ready when you arrive, Lord Vader."

"Very well." Vader swept imposingly from the bridge. He hoped that the Princess Leia had survived.

* * *

Owen Lars and Luke Skywalker, out mending a perimeter vaporator, saw the _Tantive_ crash in a blaze of glory. Grimly Owen commed Beru to let her know they'd be gone awhile longer than planned, and the two of them leapt into the speeder, tearing off towards the downed ship. They arrived to find a small huddle of survivors, a few crew, two droids, and one well-dressed young woman in white. They all turned at the sound of the speeder, the protocol droid throwing up his shiny gold arms. Luke sprang from the speeder, staring at the girl. "Leia?" he breathed, shocked.

"Luke!" she cried joyously, and they ran forward simultaneously into a tight hug. Pulling apart, they both stood talking at once as Kenobi - who knew how he got there - and Owen approached, shocked and appalled. Between the jabber of the two siblings - who, somehow, seemed to know they were siblings - very little could be made out _except that they knew each other very well_. The Lambda shuttle that materialized in the sky only heightened the surrealism.

When Vader stepped off, everyone froze, before turning to face him. He was staring directly at the twins, apparently frozen himself. Luke took a small step forward, with a tentative, "Father?"

"Luke?" Vader rumbled, and turned his head slightly. "Leia?"

"Father!" Luke cried joyfully. "It is you, you're both real!"

"Real?" Obi-Wan echoed faintly.

"Lord Vader?" Leia asked, flabbergasted. The Emperor's right-hand man, her beloved father?

"Leia," he said, pained.

Luke, mostly unaware of the galactic conflict and his father's fearsome reputation, moved forward. "Father," he repeated, eyes shining with disbelieving elation.

"Luke," Vader replied, his voice, even within the mask, conveying infinite tenderness. All gathered, save Leia, gasped in horror as the Tatooine farmboy threw himself on the terrifying Sith Lord in a hug as fierce as the Dark Lord's reputation. Horror turned to shock greater still when the terror-inspiring figure hugged the boy back. All gathered felt themselves incapable of any more surprise as the lovely Princess Leia threw herself into the hug with a joyful sob of "Father." Stormtrooper masks met Rebel faces and shrugs were exchanged, while the little blue and white astromech seemed to be singing a song of delighted smugness and recording the scene, and grizzled desert men stood by speechlessly.

Finally, Vader pulled back to examine his two children. "Leia," he said tenderly. "But...you are Organa's daughter..."

"I'm adopted," she sniffled through her tears, beaming.

"Luke." The black mask turned towards the boy, who was outshining the suns overhead.

"I live with Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru," he explained.

Vader nodded. Bail Organa had been one of Padmé's closest friends, and one of the few she trusted. Owen and Beru were also natural choices for a couple to shelter a Skywalker child. "You have both been raised well," the proud father rumbled, a hand on each of their shoulders. "It is best if Palpatine not know you are my children, if you stay with your families."

"We'll continue to see each other in our dreams, right?" Luke asked anxiously, and Vader nodded decisively.

"You are both strong in the Force, and it is through the Force we meet," he explained. "Only if one of us blocked another, would we not be able to speak."

"Never," Leia vowed. "We'll always be a family."

"Always," Luke echoed. "I love you, Father, Leia."

"I love you, too, son," Vader replied, heart overflowing. Leia gave her brother a one-armed squeeze.

"I must go, or my crew will become suspicious," Vader said reluctantly. "I will alert Alderaan as to your location, Princess. Help should arrive shortly."

The twins surged forward, hugging their father one last time before he returned to the shuttle, beckoning imperiously to the stormtroopers. Luke turned towards his sister, pointedly. "Princess?"

She smiled, taking his arm. "We have a lot of catching up to do, Big Brother."

Kenobi, shocked and shamed that his plan of keeping the twins safe had not only failed, but failed spectacularly, slunk off away home to meditate. Owen, still stunned but ever the gruff, hospitable farmer, invited all the Rebels along to the homestead. Pulling out his comm as he stumped towards the speeder, he called his wife. "Beru, we have guests. Lots of them."


	59. Warning

"Anakin, may I have a word?" Obi-Wan jogged slightly to catch up to his younger counterpart, who was taking out his resentment and frustration towards the Council in his pace. With bad grace, Anakin turned and entered a nearby classroom, standing in forbidding silence for Obi-Wan to speak. Speak Obi-Wan did.

"Anakin, my friend," he said softly, soberly, with a gentle hand on his former student's shoulder. "Be careful. Please. Not mindful, careful. We grow more and more certain that Sidious is close to the Chancellor, one of his closest advisers, possibly. What better way to infiltrate than to take advantage of a man who truly desires the best for the galaxy? Any intelligence that reaches Palpatine is suspect, anything that doesn't correlate with our records - we'd have no way of knowing. And since you are the Chosen One, he will want to destroy you, whatever it takes. If it takes exploiting your friendship with a well-meaning, paternal figure, he will do it."

"So," Anakin said slowly, "it's not Palpatine you suspect - you think he's being manipulated?" he asked with a frown. Such a successful politician...

"Yes, and outright lied to, sometimes," Obi-Wan said frankly. "If one is basically honest - and has no Force training, to discern lies - one will tend to assume the best of someone who appears to have your best interests at heart. So while everything he says to you may be in good faith, he may mot be telling the truth."

"I'll be careful," Anakin promised, temper softened drastically, and Obi-Wan clapped him on the shoulder.


	60. Foiled

**Continued from Warning**

* * *

Palpatine was puzzled and aggravated. Doubtless, it was that meddlesome Kenobi's fault that his previous gem of a cocky, arrogant, self-centered, emotional, and Council-distrusting young apprentice-to-be suddenly became calmer, rational, examining the most painstakingly altered evidence with barely a bat of an eye. Anakin Skywalker could no longer be counted on to become the next Sith Apprentice - if only that incompetent fool Dooku had managed to kill Kenobi properly!

He would have to find someone else.

His second choice was Anakin's former Padawan, headstrong, reckless, self-assured, disowned and cast out of the Jedi - a nearly perfect target. Unfortunately, when he looked her up, she and Ventress were halfway across the galaxy on some clandestine task or other. The frustrated Sith Lord was about ready to pull out the remainder of his hair.

* * *

**Y'all might like my story We Did WHAT?! It's very similar to Toss of the Coin, just has a slightly higher rating.**


	61. Abort

**Keep an eye out for an upcoming, full-length detailed story (no, not Priorities, that one is ... not going to come for awhile.) **

* * *

"Where is Padmé? Is she alright?"

"I am sorry, Lord Vader. It would seem that, in your anger, you killed her."

"_No!_" The cry of anguish ripped from the damaged throat. Beneath the obsidian helmet, yellow-veined blue eyes went solid yellow, then solid blue. Though prepared for a Forceful reaction, Sidious never stood a chance - the wave of power that swept the room was immense, as strong and unyielding as a hurricane. Like the droids, equipment, table, and everything else in the room, he just - went - _crunch_. Only one item was spared from the destruction of Vader's wrath.

* * *

A frequency that was only supposed to be used once, lit up, on every clone commander's comm. But instead of Emperor Palpatine, a black-clad monster appeared, speaking words no clone thought to ever hear. "Emperor Palpatine is dead. Your new orders are to abort Order 66, effective immediately - I repeat, abort Order 66, effective immediately. You are to aid and succor any Jedi found in any way within your power that they require. Am I clear?"

The instantaneous chorus of "Sir yes sir!" was almost as grating as the endless "Roger roger" of the droids had been. It was the new emperor's dearest hope that with the passing of Palpatine, his codes embedded in the clones passed with him. Their immediate positive response seemed to be proof of this.

Nothing would bring her back, nothing would bring back the legions of Jedi already murdered, but by the Force, he could end Palpatine's plots once and for all. He may have lost all his limbs, his heart shattered irrevocably, but he had lost none of his talent with building and programming mechanics. Sitting down at the private databanks of his predecessor, he sliced cleanly into the system and began a search for all of Sidious' partners-in-crime and minions.

_~~~~two years later~~~~_

Obi-Wan had insisted he undergo full medical treatment immediately upon returning. Dormé and Breha Organa had taken care of the twins until their father was, once again, something resembling whole. The worst blood between the former 'brothers' was vastly mitigated by Obi-Wan's misery-laden confession of attachment, and his inability to kill the one person remaining that he truly loved. Anakin replied hollowly that in that regard, Obi-Wan loved much better than he himself did. They'd stood in communal misery until the twins, two rooms away, started to squall loudly enough to be heard in the living room.

The Republic had quickly been restored. A few discreet assassinations during Lord Darth Vader's exceedingly brief tenure as Emperor had paved a smooth way for returning the government to the people. The new Chancellor's first order of business was massive investigations - almost as pervading as the smoke from the funeral pyres endlessly burning in the Jedi Temple. Due to his brief fall to the Dark, Anakin was barred from every achieving Mastery - but he no longer cared. The seeking after his greatest obsession - power - had destroyed his greatest passion - Padmé. Without her, and with that knowledge, he no longer desired power.

As he held the twins, cuddling them, examining their tiny perfect faces and hands and feet, and her eyes - Leia had her eyes - he realized that he almost had everything he ever wanted. He would never get her back, but with these little beautiful ones, her last gifts to him, he was happy. The night of their first birthday, he finally managed to release her loss.

The next day, Yoda himself instated a new Master, Anakin Skywalker.


	62. Tea for Two

**You know that full-length story I mentioned last time? Well, in short, it's not going to happen. Sorry.**

* * *

"He's gotten incompetent and sentimental," the dark-cowled figure complained, pouring steaming dark amber liquid from a spouted pot. "Most inefficient."

The other figure, small and green-skinned, and robed in light beige, accepted the proffered cup. "Too old, he was," the creature said sagely. "Full of forbidden emotions. Trained, he should never have been." A sad shake of the wrinkled head, ears flapping.

Spidery yellow hands stirred sweetsand into the cup clutched in one claw. The spoon was clinked against the side of the cup before being laid down. "An utter failure," the voice spoke again, heavy with disapproval. "A terrible Jedi, a deplorable Sith - he's not even tried to kill me yet! - and now this business with his _son_." Primness, disapproval, and loathing mixed. "Dreadful, dreadful. And he's usually so predictable, too."

A _harrumph_ from the smaller of the companions before speaking. "Too old the boy is, too. Headstrong and reckless, like his father - whiny as well. Trained, he should not be - by _anyone_," this with a look as pointed as the small gnarled stick lying beside the wizened old elf.

"Well what about the girl?" the host asked with relish, nestling down into the chair and lifting the cup of tea to parchment lips. "So much potential..."

"Old, she is too!" the smaller one said sternly, somehow conveying an impression of thumping the stick on the floor. "Allowed to marry Solo, she must be. The offspring of that pairing, strong in the Force and clever, will be."

"Oh, very well," the first voice huffs, "we can wait." Beady yellow eyes peer from beneath a black hood, shrewd and calculating and amused. "If you can hold out that long..."

"Harrumph!" The guest sounds insulted, but bulbous eyes twinkle with amusement. "Impudent youngling - look so old do I, to young eyes? When nine hundred _you_ are, look so good, _you_ will not - look worse than I do already, you do!"

"Senile old toad," the dark figure muttered sullenly, and the lighter one chuckled.

* * *

**Don't you reckon that after awhile, both Yoda and Palpatine would feel the need for some company of similar levels? (Intelligence, Mastery, etc.)  
**


	63. Straight Shooters

**This was requested ages ago by Neph Champion, sorry it took me so long ...**

**And since I'm having difficulties saving documents (yay) it may be a very long time before I write any more. Sorry. -_-**

* * *

Sergeant Coric, like the rest of the 501st, did not know what had happened to their beloved and much-respected general, or how they'd ended up under the direct command of the fearsome Lord Darth Vader. Like the good, obedient little troopers they were, they followed orders anyway - suppressing riots, arresting traitors, moving from ship to station to barracks back to a ship. They swarmed the Tantive V without batting an eye, decimating the Rebels and hunting down the errant Princess. None of them so much as flinched when Lord Vader interrogated her, but the oldest members of the battalion weren't exactly comfortable. Coric had, in the process of checking the unconscious Princess over, made a most startling discovery - she was related, in some way, to their late general. Those who remembered Skywalker's reckless determination and fiery passionate defense of what he believed was right, could well believe it. None of them so much as scowled when the feisty female was scheduled for termination, nor would rescuing her or letting her go ever occur to them.

When the sun-haired boy showed up, looking so much like Skywalker he could be the general's son, Coric and compatriots started having a really bad day. Their usually impeccable aim just sort of _collapsed_, leaving them struggling for the defensive. When the escapee blasted off, escorted by her dashing rescuers, the survivors of the 501st knew that they'd probably face disciplinary action from their highly astute commander, and definitely remedial training. Despite the shame of their ... _inability to detain_ ... the Princess and the infiltrators, to a man, the troops felt only nostalgic, wistful pride that they'd managed to honor their former general's memory ere the end.


	64. Picking on Mara Jade

What's a good way to describe Mara Jade's moods?

Myrkrial. (Mercurial.)

* * *

**Yes, I am still alive. No, that's not actually a joke - my family has been victim to repeated assaults this past week, (not to mention triple-degree heat,) and we've been keeping very late hours because of it. I _have_ been writing, but mostly on upcoming, full-length stories. (Sorry!) I do have ideas for Toss, though, and I'm definitely not gone for good.**

**...if anyone's even still here. :S**


	65. It Is Your Destiny

Owen Lars opened the door slowly, a blaster dangling, mostly out of sight, behind his moisture farmer's robes. A bald Mando'ad stood there, wearing Mando armor. Behind him were two women – a Togruta and a Dathomirian – wearing similar skimpy, yet practical, outfits. Lurking behind them – but not really lurking, for her straight posture and proud demeanor did not speak of hiding – was a brunette girl of about ten Standard years. The Mando'ad caught and held the farmer's gaze, serious and intent. A soldier, Owen guessed – a clone, possibly? The man's next words enhanced Lars' suspicion. "My name is Rex – we're here for the general's son."

"There are no generals here," Owen said roughly, and started to close the door.

Rex reached out and caught it, preventing it from coming to. "The general is dead," he agreed, absolutely expressionless. "But his son is not, and we've come to fetch him."

"Uncle Owen?" piped a voice from the interior of the dwelling, and a sandy blonde boy peered out past the farmer's voluminous robe. His eyes went straight past the man and two women to the girl, and his whole face lit up as he slid out, snakelike, into the bright sunlight. "Hi," he greeted. "I'm Luke, who are you?"

The girl had brightened, too, upon seeing the boy. "I'm Leia," she returned, her expression of royalty dissolving into something more natural for a child her age. "I'm a Jedi Padawan."

"Really? Wizard!" Luke exclaimed, eyes large and luminous as the suns overhead. "I want to be a Jedi, too – or a pilot."

"Why not both?" Leia asked reasonably. "Jedi can pilot, too."

The adults had all watched the exchange with varying emotions, and now Rex remarked, "The general was the best pilot I ever met."

"The general is my father," Leia explained in an aside to Luke, who seemed suddenly downcast.

"My father was just a navigator on a spice freighter," he mumbled.

"He was not!" The Togruta, younger than her adult companions but older than the children, all but exploded. "He was not! He was a starfighter pilot, a brilliant one – if overly cocky -"

"You certainly didn't inherit _that_ characteristic," the Dathomirian muttered sardonically, but was ignored.

"-loyal and brave to a fault, unparalleled in skill, kind and generous," the Togruta continued as though no one else had spoken.

"You knew my father?" Luke asked breathlessly.

"I was his Padawan," the Shilian woman said bluntly.

"Luke, come here," Owen said sharply. "This is nonsense, all of it, and I won't allow your head to be turned by these strangers."

Luke hesitated, looking between the human girl, the Togruta, and his uncle. The Dathomirian, however, was having none of it, and shoved her way past Rex. "Listen, _Lars_," she growled. "You may be content here on your miserable, Force-forsaken little backwater planet, but I knew Skywalker – perhaps not well, but, when you're trying to kill someone over a period of several years, you get to be acquainted. His son is not going to be content here. Eventually, you're going to have to let the boy go, or he _will attract Vader to himself_. We're giving him a chance to not only survive the encounter, but actually do some good with it. Are you trying to get your nephew killed?"

Luke stared wide-eyed. Owen had not backed down, even with the aggressive woman within centimeters of him, and his eyes were flinty. "He will not go with you," the stubborn man ground out. "He will be safe here."

"No he won't!" the Togruta former-Padawan exclaimed in exasperation. "The Force will call to him – to them! Ana- _Vader_ – has the strongest connection to the Force ever known! His children will have inherited that trait, and Force-sensitives all over the galaxy are being exterminated! Eventually, they will call to him as an unadulterated beacon!"

"Are we siblings?" Luke whispered.

"Twins, I think," Leia whispered back, beaming.

"Wizard," Luke breathed again.

"Owen..." Yet another voice came from the dwelling, and a woman emerged, blinking. "We knew this day would come," she said softly, laying a hand on her husband's arm. "We have to let him go with them."

"How do we know that you are who you say you are?" Owen demanded, still not giving in.

"They are," Luke said confidently, and everyone stared at him. Rex and the Togruta looked wistful or sad, the Dathomirian calculating, and Leia content. Beru sniffed once, and Luke crossed to her, giving her a hug. "Don't worry, Aunt Beru," he said comfortingly. "I'll come back and visit sometime."

"You can't get back to Anchorhead before the suns set," Owen said reluctantly. "You'll have to stay the night."

"We'll risk it," the taller, more aggressive woman replied, her tone faintly derisive.

"Best not to," Luke warned matter-of-factly. "You'll never make it."

"He's right," the Togruta backed him up. "I've been on Tatooine at night before – we better stay."

Leia stayed in Luke's room that night, and for the first time, the siblings stayed up ridiculously late whispering and giggling with each other.

* * *

**I've not yet watched Rebels – life's going from worse to worser – so apologies to any Rebels fans out there. Of course, Toss isn't canon-compliant anyway, so...**

**But there is a contra dance tonight, so that's fabulous. =)**


	66. Fett Fetes

A harsh ding alerted him to an incoming call, and a green gauntleted hand reached over to flick the comm switch. "Fett," he greeted succinctly.

"Boba, my friend," Calrissian said smoothly, but a spark of fear was obvious in his eyes. "I have a deal to offer you."

"What can you offer me?" the bounty hunter returned derisively.

"Once you turn Solo in to Jabba, I'll pay you to help me get him back out," the slimy little wheeler-dealer wheedled.

The normal unreadable hunter shouted with laughter. "You want me to double-cross Jabba? You couldn't pay me enough!"

"I have money-" Calrissian tried desperately, but Fett cut him off.

"Not what I'd ask."

A Wookiee howled somewhere off-transmitter, and after a moment of nauseating jiggling, the comm's field switched from the despicable former baron-administrator to a brunette that Fett vaguely remembered crying out after Solo. She wasn't crying now, though, hefting an impressive blaster into view as she glared vibroblades at him. "Let's make this clear, _hunter_," she snarled. "Help us and get paid, or don't help us and get shot."

In the safe anonymity of his helmet, Boba's eyebrows rose. Being who and what he was, he knew plenty of tough cookies - had worked with several - but none born into royalty, and none Alderaanian. A grudging respect rose in him for the spitfire princess, and he considered taking up the offer. "You can't match my price," he repeated, mostly to test the waters further.

"What is it?" she snapped back briskly, resting the blaster against her shoulder.

"One hundred thousand credits," Fett returned, as briskly.

"I've only got sixty-seven thousand," Calrissian whined from out-of-range. The Wookiee howled that they still had the money from after Yavin (whatever _that_ meant.)

"I'll make up the difference," the woman replied in an aside to her companions, then turned back to the comm. "You've got yourself a deal, Fett." Her eyes narrowed. "Don't even think about reneging."

"I don't renege," he replied, rather insulted. "I'm the best in the business, because I do the job and I do it properly."

"Well help us get him out properly," she said tartly. "We'll meet you there in five days. _Falcon_ out."

"Well, Solo," the bounty hunter murmured to the unhearing block of carbonite in the bowels of his ship, "I don't know what you did to get them, but you've got some devoted friends. Just keep your girlfriend from trying to gut me once you're out of there, why don't you."

* * *

**You know the saying "Life's a (you know what,) and then you die?" Well, let's just say it hasn't been getting easier. xD On the plus side, I managed to find words for the idea I've had in my head for a few weeks! :D On the minus side, most of my writing mind is off in the world of my upcoming full-length fic (no idea yet what it'll be titled, sorry,) on which I've got a few chapters completed. For now it's mostly deciding in what order to put them, and I've got a couple sent to my beta and I'm waiting for them to come back. So yes, I am still writing (to some degree,) and will come back to Toss on a regular basis (eventually.)**


	67. Friends

Dark, fearsome Darth Vader had a secret: he liked children. Not even Palpatine knew of his weakness, and since he rarely had opportunity to come into contact with children, it was unlikely that anyone else would ever find out. The Temple massacre of the younglings was the only part of Order 66 he ever regretted, but he did regret it, and many a sleepless night was spent contemplating the brutal eliminations. He could never make up for his deeds that night, but he didn't have to be proud of them.

So when he met five-year-old Leia Organa at a party on Imperial Center, allowed by her father to come to the dignitaries' fete, he was intrigued by this small, proud, precocious girl. Bail Organa, called away by one of his colleagues, instructed his daughter firmly to stay beside the table where they'd been standing. Sighing with boredom, the diminutive brunette glanced up at Vader before staring around the room. Vader placed his hands behind his back, surveying the child from his imposing height. "Isn't it past your bed time, young one?"

"The nightcycle is different here than on Alderaan," she explained, returning her attention to him. "Papa will probably take me home in an hour or so."

That made sense, but Vader found himself wanting to talk to the bright little girl. "Are you enjoying the gala?"

"It's very educational," little Leia responded noncommittally. Darth Vader, not being experienced in childcare, didn't know how much a five-year-old girl, even a Princess daughter of a Senator, should be interested in education, but he suspected it wasn't that much. But when the child looked up at him again and confided, "Someday, I'll be a Senator," he surprised himself with his response.

"I'm sure you will be, child."

* * *

Senator Leia Organa of Alderaan always forcefully reminded Lord Vader of another short, brunette Senator. Surprisingly, he found he didn't mind the reminder, and while he and the young Senator argued endlessly over politics, their friendship only ever deepened. Not long after Leia's election, Vader had confronted an understandably nervous Bail Organa.

"You are apprehensive about your daughter's continued association with me, are you not?" the cyborg rumbled, arms crossed forbiddingly in front of himself.

Bail swallowed, but held his head up proudly. It was no use lying to Vader, he knew. "I am," he replied simply.

"You need not be," Vader dismissed with a wave of one hand. "I shall not harm her." Turning, he swept off, leaving a floored and shaken Viceroy in his wake. When Leia, in her office, also reassured him - with utter conviction - of her perfect safety, he privately surrendered and resolved to merely observe the situation. If it was the will of the Force that Skywalker and his daughter were to be reunited, there was nothing Bail could do about it.

* * *

Leia's white-haired secretary looked up at the black specter that had entered the office, frightened but resolute. "I'm sorry, Lord Vader, but the Senator will not see anyone else today."

"She will see me." It was a statement of fact, devoid of the threatening tone that would usually accompany the words, and the secretary felt a surge of resentment that the fierce enforcer of the Emperor's will was so self-assured of his status that he felt entitled to everyone bending to his will.

"No, she won't," the woman returned unyieldingly. "She does not wish to be disturbed today."

Before the scene could escalate, the door to the Senator's inner sanctum slid open. "It's alright, Winter, show him in," the imperious young voice instructed. Winter's mouth tightened, but she stepped aside so Vader could enter. As he did so, he inclined his head to her in a mocking bow, smirking internally at the way her eyes flashed.

"Your friend is very devoted to your well-being," he observed, standing in front of the desk.

Leia glanced up distractedly from the array of datapads on the elegant wood surface. "We grew up together, practically sisters," she replied absently.

"Her dedication is commendable," he replied, sounding simultaneously amused and irritated. "Planning your next speech refuting the Emperor's proposal?"

"I don't know what it will be," the girl replied, a line appearing between her brows.

"That makes no difference," the Dark Lord answered, amusement winning out, only a trace of irritation left in his tone.

Shaking her head, Leia finally rose and walked around the desk to give her friend a hug. "It's not a principle that I oppose him," she reproved. "We just ... happen to not share any principles."

"Doesn't it work out to be the same thing?" he asked slyly, using the Force to catch a datapad that had started to slide from the desk, and replace it.

"I could not work on a speech opposing his next proposal if I don't know what it is," she replied primly.

"You avoided the question," Vader said triumphantly, his smirk audible in his voice.

They were interrupted by the door opening, and Winter stuck her head in. "My lady-"

"You are dismissed for the day, Winter," Leia replied warmly. "I'm done with work, and will be quite safe with Lord Vader. Tell Captain Antilles to escort you back to the apartment."

Winter scowled at Vader, but didn't argue. "Yes, Senator," she muttered resentfully, and withdrew. Leia turned an impish smile to her visitor.

"Now you have to drive me home," she said sweetly.

"Your desire to fly at breakneck speeds is most un-Senatorial," he admonished, bobbing a finger in her face.

"That's what my driver says, too," Leia replied slyly, unperturbed by the finger. "Why do you think I always try and fly home with you?"

"The young are corrupting me," he grumbled. "Gather your paraphernalia, Senator, and we'll be off."

* * *

"I don't know what you're talking about," the earnest young woman said, leaning forward and ignoring the stormtroopers guarding her. Vader couldn't have been prouder of her had she been his own daughter. "I am an Ambassador on an official mission."

"You are a Rebel," he accused, leveling a finger at her. "Take her away!"

"I can walk," she snapped at her escort as she was led off, utterly unafraid.

* * *

"Now, your Highness, we will discuss those plans." Vader stalked menacingly into the cell, turning off the surveillance with a wave and sealing the door behind him.

"This station is a monstrosity, Vader!" she snapped, propelled to her feet by her desperation. "Surely you can see that!"

"I agree, Princess, but many of the workers aboard it are innocent. Will you condemn them to death?" he asked pointedly.

She spread her hands helplessly. "It's deplorable," she admitted. "But think how many trillions could lose their lives to this evil!"

"It's cautionary only," he replied easily. The Senator did not dignify this statement with a reply beyond a snort.

"If we could spare the workers aboard, we would," she said firmly. "But one station destroyed versus Force-knows-how-many planets - the planets win."

"What if you could take it back to your Rebellion?" he suggested. Senator Organa's jaw almost hit the floor.

* * *

The Empire was devastated by the news - Grand Moff Tarkin was dead, assassinated by a Rebel infiltration team, and Darth Vader was a prisoner of the Rebels. The Death Star had been commandeered by the dissident group, and countless troops, technicians, and pilots with it. The only good news was that the Royal Family of Alderaan was on the run. There were even rumors of a Jedi Master and Padawan appearing in the Rebellion. Yes, it was a dark time for the Empire.

* * *

"Uncle Vader! General Kenobi!" Princess Leia swept into the hangar, glaring impartially at the two Force-wielders who stood blade-to-blade. "We are all friends here," she said pointedly, staring at the lit blades. "Whatever differences you have, you can _talk them out_!"

Vader ground his teeth inside his helmet, but lowered his blade. "You do not know of how he has wronged me, Leia," he said darkly.

"All I have done is in defense and to protect!" Obi-Wan replied.

"Ben?" Luke asked hesitantly, entering from the opposite doorway.

"You were wrong," Vader seethed.

"Clearly," the old Jedi sighed, deactivating his lightsaber. "But Jedi aren't infallible."

Vader vacillated a moment, before deactivating and clipping onto his belt his own saber. "Clearly," he growled.

"And while we're on the subject," Obi-Wan added, "Padmé bore twins. When I took Luke to Owen and Beru, Bail and Breha Organa adopted your daughter..."

For five seconds, the only sound in the hangar was Vader's mechanized breathing. When he spoke, though, his voice was laden with menace. "You have until I count three to be out this room, old man."

* * *

Anakin Skywalker, hero of the Clone Wars, had returned. No one knew how, or where he'd been, or what he'd been doing, but he was back, and he was publicly endorsing the Rebellion. Propaganda clips flooded the HoloNet, going viral. His son and honorary neice - Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan - were being trained by himself and his old Master and friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Citizens old enough to remember the Clone Wars and the end of the Republic moved in overwhelming support of the Alliance, and the Emperor found an uprising on his hands. It didn't help that his triple-crossing little apprentice had managed to eliminate every last one of the Emperor's secret agents. A thousand times a day, the desiccated old man cursed Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, the woman who bore him, and the stars that had shone on his birth, but all the cursing in the galaxy did no good. Anakin Skywalker was back, older, wiser, more mature, and with _twins_! What was a Sith to do?

* * *

With the outpouring of public support, it was really only a matter of time until the Alliance won. Of course, when half the Imperial Military, led by Captain Firmus Piett and Major General Veers aboard the Executor, deserted to the Rebellion, things for loyal Imperials went from bad to worse. The Empire got smaller and smaller as planets and even entire systems seceded, joining the New Republic led by Mon Mothma, Garm Bel Iblis, and Knight Organa, and protected by the Alliance military. Another blow came when Kuat Drive Yards and Incom fell to swift, clever attacks from a Super Star Destroyer commanded by Master Anakin Skywalker. Force-sensitives were recruited by Knight Luke Skywalker to train as Jedi, whose reputation had been reestablished.

Rumor had it that the blaster shot that eventually dropped the Emperor was delivered by bounty hunter Boba Fett, though no one knew where the rumor started or whether it was true or not. Darth Vader mysteriously reappeared at the Emperor's death, claiming the throne and then ceding it to Anakin Skywalker, who promptly turned it over to Knight Organa, who promptly integrated it into the Republic. The Republic was back.

* * *

"Eat my words, I must," the wizened green alien said humbly, bowing to the towering human. "A great Jedi you have turned out to be, Anakin Skywalker. Failed you, I did, and found your own way, you were forced to do."

"I fell to the Dark Side, Master," Anakin pointed out. "Hardly the act of a good Jedi."

"Found your way back, you did," Yoda said, his ears flapping as he shook his head. "Unheard of, this is. A great Jedi, you truly are."

"We all failed him," Obi-Wan said sadly.

"I didn't," Leia said smugly from her perch on the couch next to her brother.

"Ironically," Obi-Wan muttered.

Anakin slapped his back, grinning like a krakana. "Don't worry, old man, it worked out alright in the end," he said. It was not lost on either Jedi that things had only worked out despite Obi-Wan's machinations.

* * *

"If you'd like, I could help you," Anakin offered. "I'm pretty handy around a ship."

"Luke inherited his mechanical skills from Anakin," Obi-wan agreed. "And both of you got your love of flying from him."

"The _Falcon_'s all messed up inside," Luke interposed, setting down his glass. "I'm sure you could help, but someone'd have to show you where all the wiring runs."

"My modifications are what saved all ours butts multiples times during the war," Han pointed out pithily.

"We know," Leia agreed, grinning. "But even you have to admit that all those modifications keep breaking down."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Han grumbled. "Yes, Anakin, I'd appreciate your help," he admitted.

"I'll be down tomorrow at noon," Anakin replied, and reached for his glass. "Although I have a bone to pick with you, Han," he added conversationally. "When are you and Leia going to get married?"

* * *

**Someone requested Leia/Vader fluff ages ago ... sorry it took me so long. :s I also got a request for Jedi Leia, too, so I worked that in as well. And of course I had to reconcile everyone, just to make one big dust bunny.  
**


	68. Proprietary

**This is just a sneak peek of my upcoming full-length fic (title uncertain). The characters are stewards in the Officers' Lounge aboard _Executor_. Corbane (the narrator) is the "new girl", Serah Mayhew and Abby Sees are her close friends, Kyle is a colleague, and Lane is the Petty Officer. Any other questions, PM me or ask in a review. ;)**

* * *

"We get proprietary, after awhile," Serah says casually. "You may not like them now, and you may not like them later while you're serving them, but stars, no one else better insult them."

"You mean, if I complain to you two about them, you'll jump on me?" I ask dryly.

"No," Abby explains. "Sometimes, when the commanding officers of multiple ships or squadrons have to get together for a pow-wow that's going to last awhile, they'll go to a planet, and the crews usually get shore leave. At the same time. It can lead to trouble."

"Say you're down dirtside, hanging out in a nightclub with Sees and Mayhew," Kyle interjects, having been eavesdropping. "So you're all chilling, having a drink or two and critiquing the music, the alcohol, and the guys, daring each other to get up on the dance floor, and some guy from the _Stalker_ comes and asks you to dance. Sees and Mayhew are egging you on, so you get up, and go out on the dance floor with him. Well, he starts showing off, trying to get you to rent a room with him, and he derides the rebels, boasts a bit, and then starts comparing officers. He calls Captain Piett a spineless, mousy milquetoast, what do you do?"

"I punch him in the nose, maybe knee him in the groin, definitely step on his toes, and walk off on him," I reply indignantly.

"Precisely," Kyle returns. "And then he chases after you, maybe grabbing your arm, and punches you back."

"Then I _definitely_ knee him in the groin!" I say fiercely, getting mad.

"At which point," Serah interrupts, "Abby and I jump on him."

Kyle nods. "His comrades see, and half a dozen of them wade in. Zak notices what's going on and sallies to your aid. The boys and I have had a few drinks, so we wait a couple seconds to figure out who's who and who to punch, and then we jump into the fray. Another dozen of the _Stalker_ guy's friends notice, and soon there's a full-on brawl going. Lane shows up-"

"And breaks up the fight before putting you all on disciplinary action for a month," the Chief says dryly, appearing behind Kyle, who nods.

"Yeah, that. But by then, Corbane has two black eyes and a split lip, Sees is half-bald and is covered in cuts, Zak's got a concussion, Mayhew's nose is bloody and possibly broken-"

Abby interrupts. "-the other guy's got a spectacular bruise on his jaw, his voice is several octaves higher and he'll be walking funny for weeks, and the rest of them are in no better condition."

Kyle waves this off. "Yeah, but we're all in the infirmary, and on disciplinary action to boot when we finally get out the bacta. And for what?"

"He insulted the captain!" I return vehemently, still mad at my hypothetical dance partner.

Serah beams. "See? Proprietary."

* * *

**(Ever wonder what I'd be like as a Mary Sue? Now you can know, if you read my story Flight of Fancy. *hint hint*)  
**


	69. Heartless

**This is, I admit, unashamed Malicean-inspired (and frodoggenic inspired, and self-inspired...) The line that really sparked it is found in Chapter 15 of _Welcome to the club_: "As far as the young rebel knew, chances were good that the ancient ruler would die of old age before _that_ happened."**

* * *

"Good, young Skywalker, good," Palpatine cackled, rising to his feet, already gathering the Dark Side about him in preparation to finish off whichever Skywalker proved unsuitable to his purposes. As always, the heady rush of power flushed him with euphoria, dizzying him with ecstasy and making his heart skip a beat. Except that it didn't start up again. "Vader, help me," he choked out, lurching forward as, dizzy now from more than ecstasy, he tumbled down the steps.

Vader and Luke paused in their duel, watching the Emperor collapse. "What?" Luke asked, confusion drawing his vowel-sound out slightly.

The vocoder made an odd sound that may have been the Sith Lord clearing his throat. "I believe his age finally caught up to him."

Luke looked sheepishly down at his lit saber. "Um," he murmured, deactivating it.

Vader made the same sound as before, deactivating his own. "He was a master of manipulation," he offered, as close to an apology as he would ever come.

"Yes," Luke replied awkwardly.

"Help – me –" Palpatine croaked feebly, reaching out one clawed hand. Utterly ignored by both Skywalkers, who swept and scampered, (respectively,) from the room, he collapsed with a groan. Heartless monster that he was, the cosmic sense of justice had decided to attack what was left of his heart as he had attacked so many others.

* * *

**It's been so long since I've seen my reviews, I can't remember what I've answered and what I haven't. Just know that I appreciate them all.**


	70. The Family

"They will be thrilled to meet you, my apprentice," Jedi Knight Sheev Palpatine said, springing from the speeder with agility that would have been remarkable for anyone of his age, that did not possess the Force.

"Yes, my Master," his Padawan agreed humbly, swinging out behind him rather more gracefully. The spry old Knight crossed the walkway, nodding amiably to the strolling citizens who deferentially moved aside to clear a path for him. The Padawan pulled his brown hood up over his face, knowing that the fearsome black and red patterning of his skin, combined with his larger-than-usual horns, scared many members of many species. Those who bothered to look into his hazel eyes, though, could see he was gentle and kindly.

Reaching out a hand, Knight Palpatine opened the door to the lift that would take him and his Padawan to their destination. The young Zabrak remained quiet during the ride up, but his eyes shone with eager excitement. The lift doors opened, allowing the occupants exit. Hurrying eagerly, Knight Palpatine crossed to an apartment, a swift swipe of a passkey opening the door to him and his Padawan.

"Shmi, I'm home!" he called, and was greeted by a sharp squeal of joy. A sun-haired boy of about nine years rose from the floor where he had been hidden behind the furniture and threw himself on the nearer newcomer.

"Dad!" the boy cried, hugging his father ecstatically, as a plain but attractive woman emerged from the kitchen to give her husband a kiss on the cheek.

"Hello, Sheev, it's good for you to be back," she said warmly, and turned to the shyly lurking Zabrak, giving him a hug. "And you, Maul. You're too thin," she added admonishingly. "They don't feed you well enough at the Temple."

"It's fine," Padawan Maul said bashfully. "A Jedi isn't supposed to need much in the way of physical sustainment."

Sheev winked at his wife, one hand still on his son's back. "My Padawan is a better Jedi than I'll ever be," he observed cheerfully, and looked down at the boy. "Is Padmé home, Ani?"

"No," Anakin said, wrinkling his nose. "She's still at the Mushroom."

"The Senate Rotunda," his mother corrected dryly.

"Senator Sola Naberrie, is it? She takes advantage of Padmé's dedication," her father said disapprovingly.

"Padmé's happiest at the Senate." Shmi Skywalker neé Palpatine turned, beckoning her husband and his Padawan towards the kitchen. "Come on, dinner's almost done. She'll be here soon."

"Dad?" Anakin asked, looking up at his father as they passed through the doorway. "There's another race coming up, can I enter? Please? Mom said I had to ask you – please?"

Sheev glanced at his wife. "Let me talk to your mother first," he said, reserving judgment. Anakin wrinkled his nose, but knew better than to argue, instead dropping back to look up at Maul.

"If they say yes, will you and Obi-Wan come watch me?" the boy asked hopefully.

Maul grinned down at his young friend, eyes twinkling. "You bet, kid," he replied, ruffling the sandy hair. "You bet."

"Yes," young Anakin breathed, clenching a fist in triumph before running forward to claim the spot between his father and Maul at the table. Shmi shook her head in exasperated fondness at her son, placing the last dish on the table and seating herself across from her husband.

The door chimed, announcing the entry of the missing member of the party. "Mother, I'm back," a sweet young voice called. Anakin grinned at the suddenly blushing Zabrak young man. A brunette beauty appeared in the doorway as her father rose to greet her.

"Padmé, you look beautiful," he said fondly.

"Father! Maul!" she exclaimed in delight, hugging him back before bestowing a beautiful smile on the Padawan. "It's so good to see you both," she added, her obvious happiness coloring the neutral diplomatic greeting.

"And you, Miss Amidala," Maul said respectfully. It had taken him time, to get used to the diverse names of his Master's family. Shmi Skywalker, originally a slave girl on Tatooine, had been purchased by a traveling Jedi Knight whose hyperdrive had broken down on him. He had taken her back to his home planet of Naboo, giving her a home there. They'd continued to see each other for years afterward, and when they finally admitted their forbidden love for each other, had been married. A year later, Padmé Skywalker – given the name of her mother for the sake of her father – was born. Six years later, Anakin Skywalker joined her. Padmé had been interested in politics from the time she was a child, and by the time her father had found a place for his family on Coruscant, she had become a handmaiden to then-Queen Sola Naberrie.

The Queen's end of term, and subsequent election to Senator, had coincided spectacularly with the Skywalkers' move to Coruscant. Taking a new last name as was the custom on Naboo, Padmé had continued in Sola's service. The two women were close in age, and close enough to consider themselves honorary sisters. But every night, Padmé returned home to her family, at least, part of them. Only sometimes could her father get away, and as much as she loved him, she was always happy when his Padawan could accompany him.

Maul and Padmé's affection for each other was a fairly open secret. Anakin was especially gleeful about it, although he kept his mouth shut for the most part. Shmi turned a happily blind eye, while Sheev seemed to have not noticed at all.

Now, Padmé seated herself between her mother and father, across from the young man and her brother. The two young adults shared a warm smile, eyes mutually shining. Anakin wriggled in his seat, grinning widely.

"Have you heard from Master Dooku recently?" Shmi asked, dishing up the food.

"Yes, Yan and Obi-Wan just returned to the Temple two days ago," Sheev replied easily. "They're working together very well, and noble and refined as he is, Yan keeps – oh so delicately, subtly, mind you," with a wink at his daughter, who smiled at her father's description of his best friend, "rubbing their noses in it. Young Obi-Wan is picking up his Master's negotiation skills, too," he mused. "Although Maul sees a very different side of him, usually," he added wryly.

Maul grinned. "He can still thrash me within an inch of my life in the dojo," he said ruefully. "And barely break a sweat while doing so."

Anakin looked hopefully at his sister. "If Maul and Obi-Wan come to my race – if I can go – can you get Sola – sorry, Senator Naberrie – to come and watch?"

"Maybe," Padmé demurred. "She's very busy."

"It'll be very fun," Anakin pleaded.

"I think you shouldn't be counting your mynocks before they hatch, young man," Shmi reproved mildly. Anakin grimaced and applied himself to his meal with nine-year-old enthusiasm.

* * *

"Start – your – engines!" the race announcer bellowed through his mike. A dozen swoop bikes roared to life, and the crowd roared with enthusiasm. In the stands, three women – two young, one in her middle age – stood anxiously alongside two young men, all of them staring avidly at the course below. Anakin, at nine years old, was by far the youngest there – but he'd already won three races in his short career, and it was a good bet he'd win this one, too. Sola Naberrie gripped Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi's hand tightly, her other hand shading her eyes. Maul squeezed Padmé's shoulder, sending her reassurance through the touch. Shmi knotted her hands, brow furrowed but eyes clear – if her husband deemed their son capable, she did not doubt him, either of them.

With another roar of heavily modified engines, the swoops were off in a literal streak. The screaming, chanting crowd went wild, handheld screens showing the course of the race, the colored lights denoting the racers veering about and occasionally blinking out in a crash. The bright sky blue that was Anakin remained, however, and if he was juking about wildly, he at least usually had a purpose. (Usually. The boy always let his wild side out on these courses.) Several blurs zipping past denoted the end of the first lap, and the movements of the lights grew ever more erratic as the racers employed ever more dubious tactics to be the first to reach the end of the course.

Several nerve-wracking minutes later, the bright blue light sped across the finish line almost neck-and-neck with the flashing scarlet. Anakin veered abruptly as the winner of the race dove off his bike, and barely in the nick of time – less than a second later, it exploded in a very impressive fireball. Sleazy medics hurried forward, scraping the winner up off the pavement and checking him over for irreparable injuries. Deeming him fit enough to take the trophy, they sprayed him down with bacta and sent him up along with Anakin and a flame-headed Corellian woman, who'd come in third, to receive their prizes.

The beaming boy rushed to his family and friends, Shmi dropping to her knees to clutch her son close. "I hate when you race," she whispered, eyes closing.

"Yeah, but Mom!" He held up a jangling bag. "I just got us seven-hundred fifty credits!"

* * *

**As much as it hurts to say it - and does it ever hurt to say it - this is it. Life has finally managed to cut out all my time for writing, and it breaks my heart but responsibility must take precedent. I want to say thank you to all my devoted followers, favoriters, and reviewers - I can honestly say some of my happiest times have been hearing from y'all. ****I'm sure I'm gonna get tons of PMs wanting me to start writing again, so I'm gonna ask now, please save yourself the trouble and me the heartache. Writing is one of the very few joys I had left, if it were possible, I'd be doing it more. So in the interest of keeping the peace, and my sanity, I'll make a promise: If I'm still alive as of my birthday in 2016, I will begin writing again.  
**

**I don't like to go out moping, so I decided to give y'all the most messed-up version of Phantom Menace I could. :D 'Cause I'm just evil like that and that's how I roll. Just to clarify, Palpatine is not and never becomes the Sith Lord.**

**God bless you all, and remember;**

**The Force Will Be With You**

**Always**

**~Brievel, the Renegade Jedi**


	71. Sun

_**Burning. Sun. Nova. Fire. Flame. **_Alone. **_I am powerful. I must save them – I must be able to save them!_**

Padmé?

_**Where is she?**_

_**Where am I?**_

_**Where? Here. Here does not matter.**_

_**I am burning. Sun. The sun. Power. Burning, and power. I am burning, I am power. I am the sun.**_

_**The sun. The son? Son of suns... twin suns! There are always two. Two suns? Two powers. I am dark. A dark sun. The dark sun!**_

_**Two. No, not two. Three. Padmé?**_

_Where is she?!_

_**I must save her. I must save them all! I must have the power!**_

_**(I can show you how. I can give you the power. But only the Dark can give you the power.)**_

_**I must have it!**_

_**(The Dark path is a lonely one.)**_

_**I must save them all!**_

_[You can't save everyone. Eventually, you have to let go.]_

**NO!**

_[Come back!]_

_**No... I must have the power. I must save her. I must be the sun. I am the Son of the Suns. I must become the Suns.**_

_[Too much power will destroy, you and everything you care about!]_

_**You're just jealous! I will have it all! I must!**_

_[Your need will consume you.]_

**SILENCE!**

•

_**Burning. Fire. Flame. Pain. Dying. Living. Life from death. Power. Power. Burning. Darkness. Sun.**_

_**I. Am. The. Sun.**_

* * *

A/N: Ever listened to Thomas Bergersen's Children of the Sun? No? You really should. I'm fairly certain it was written about a plural Anakin, they even say "we are the Chosen Ones" in it! Anyway, it's what inspired this. In case it's not clear, it takes place when he's getting medical treatment and going into the suit after Mustafar. No one is present save his own head, talking in familiar voices.

On another note, yes, I'm back! =D Don't get your hopes too high, though. It's very much a pop-in-and-say-hi thing.


	72. Care

"_Please, take him. If he stays, he will be a slave – I would not have that for my son." Reluctantly, the human man held out his arms to the desperate Dathomirian woman, looking down in disgust at the tiny infant deposited in his grasp._

"_Very well," he agreed, testing the flow of the Force around him. "I will take him and provide him a good home."_

"_Thank you," Kycina whispered, eyes shining with gratitude and unshed tears. Reaching out, she brushed a finger across her young son's forehead. "His name is Maul."_

"_He will be well-cared for," Sidious promised emptily, his grasp on the sleeping baby tightening slightly and shifting._

"_Thank you," the mother whispered again, and faded into the shadows._

_Once on the ship, lifted out into space, Palpatine regarded his new charge with undisguised disgust and hostility. The small child, now awake, regarded him in turn, Force-signature blindingly Light with only the faintest twists of darkness in it. The child, losing interest, twisted its head to look about the ship, cooing in delight. "Maul," the Sith Lord snorted. "How appropriate, a savage name for a feral beast. I should just send you out an airlock now – however, Plagueis may have a use for you. I shall let you live, at least for now."_

_Indeed, the Muun Master decided to keep the Zabrak child alive. "Even the Lightest may be twisted into Darkness, my apprentice," he advised._

_Sidious bowed, resentment simmering. "As you wish, my Master."_

_Maul giggled, squirming a little in his blankets._

* * *

"And now, your Highness, we will discuss those plans." The heavily tattooed Sith Lord stood in the small, close room the slimy amphibious aliens had set aside for his use, surrounded by youthful human females. The Jedi and their bumbling Gungan companion had fallen neatly into his prepared trap, and they were now currently mouldering inside ray shields and awaiting his pleasure. Let them wait, he had other business to attend to.

The child he had pressed to his chest, his lightsaber less than an inch from her slender neck, quivered, but said nothing in reply to his menace-laden statement. The heavily made-up Queen, in the middle of the room and flanked by her other handmaidens, stood straighter. Though it was not visible, through all the white face paint she had piled on, Maul could tell that she had paled. Her voice, though, was low and admirably steady when she spoke. "I will not sign," the child-Queen declared with surprising composure.

"Perhaps you'd like to see your friend die, then," he hissed, the glowing blade hovering fractionally closer to the young girl's exposed throat.

"Yané," the blonde handmaiden gasped faintly, starting forward before freezing and falling back into place.

"I can see you care for her," Maul mocked. "Yet you will not sign?" Despite himself, a little of his puzzlement leaked through into his voice.

"I have a responsibility to my people," the Queen said, facade cracking, her voice shaking slightly.

"We all knew what we were signing up for," another of the handmaidens spoke up boldly.

"Don't do it for my sake, your Highness," the child he held hostage urged, shaking but brave.

"Then watch her die," the Sith snarled. "And each of your handmaidens, one by one, until you sign."

"Wait!" cried the blonde again, reaching out, before turning to the Queen and other handmaidens. "Your Highness, it may be time to reveal..." she said softly, leaving the end of her sentence significantly hanging.

The Queen glanced around, and receiving several terse nods of confirmation, turned regally to the increasingly irritable Sith. "You should be aware that the true Queen does not always wear her ceremonial garb," she said with stunning dignity. "She commonly poses as a handmaiden for her own safety, and advises her decoy in her decisions."

Maul's eyes widened, before narrowing in fury. The insolent brat spoke the truth – the Force hissed in confirmation. He could not risk slaying any of the handmaidens now, lest he slay the true Queen among them. "Very clever, your Highness," he spat in rage. "Very clever. But perhaps you won't mind watching your people die, one by one – starting with that Governor."

"We cannot allow the people to die, your Highness," the blonde said softly, eyes worried.

"No, your Highness, you cannot," Maul mocked. The decoy held very still, face perfectly neutral but eyes anguished, though she said nothing. "See what weakness it is to care?" he added derisively.

The hostage he held to himself twisted around to look up at him, eyes wide. "You don't have anyone to love?" she breathed, shock and – was that _pity?! – _mixing in her expression.

"To love is to make oneself vulnerable," he answered automatically, slightly discomfited to find the gazes of all the other occupants of the room to be startled and sympathetic.

"Caring is what enables the Queen to take good care of her people," the girl in the ceremonial attire said regally.

"Caring is what enables her decoys to stand in for her," another of the handmaidens said.

"Because her people know she cares, they trust her," the girl to the immediate left of the faux Queen said firmly.

"Caring is what gives us strength," the blonde said proudly, drawing herself up.

"Caring is what makes us happy," the small girl he held captive said softly.

"Love fulfills us," agreed the other one who looked like little more than a babe in arms.

"Love is what makes a dying mother give her last breath to her child," yet another, who had remained silent until now, chimed in.

"And because she loves her people, the Queen will not give in," the decoy said firmly. "She cannot."

"Who told you that to care was weakness?" the brunette to the false Queen's left asked gently. "Have they never hurt you? Could it not simply have been an excuse to not give you affection you should have?"

"Yané," the blonde interrupted desperately, as the small girl gave a choked whimper. In his distraction, Maul had let his saber drift too close and singe her neck. "_Please_," the other handmaiden pleaded, reaching for her colleague.

Maul's thumb shifted on the saber, and the blade shrank away into nothing. "Very well, your Highness," he agreed quietly, and shoved his hostage at the other girls. The blonde and the curly-haired one stooped forward to help Yané. "But you and your handmaidens will remain in here, without food, until you decide to sign the treaty." His eyes drifted from girl to girl before he turned and exited the cramped room.

* * *

The Jedi had escaped the ray shield in which they'd been entrapped, but, preoccupied by the girls' words, Maul could not find it in himself to care. He wandered the deserted city, absently staring at nothing. A woman's voice echoed in his mind. "_Please, take him. If he stays, he will be a slave. I would not have that for my son._"

"Mother?" he whispered, staring out at the spectacular sunset. Was she strong enough to give up the son she adored, because she cared?

He spun, his lightsaber emerging in one fluid movement, catching and knocking away the blue blade about to spear him. "Jedi," he snarled, the usual anger flooding him, his eyes starting to glow yellow with Darkness. He twirled in place, the other blade igniting to halt the green bar that swept down at him. Yet even as he sought to destroy his Order's sworn enemies, his previous thoughts kept distracting him.

A flying kick sent the older Jedi soaring down the alley and over a wall, as Maul's saberstaff pinned the Padawan to the wall, hovering at the young man's sternum. "Why is it forbidden to care?" he hissed into the Jedi's face. He could feel the Darkness draining from him, the need to know filling the gap left behind – or perhaps it was that desire that was driving away his ally?

The Padawan blinked, watching the yellow dissipate from the hazel eyes. "Because attachment leads to the Dark Side," he answered automatically, sickly fascinated.

"The Dark Side?" the Zabrak questioned softly, sounding bemused. "But that can't be true. The Dark does not tolerate caring, or love. The Dark despises these." Anger colored his gaze again. "You are lying to me, Jedi," he snarled. A rush of danger, and the Sith spun away from the returned Master.

Maul sprang to a rooftop, staring down at the Jedi. "Why?" he repeated, sounding angry, before leaping away.

* * *

"The Queen refuses to cooperate, my Master," he reported, kneeling before the vast blue hologram. "She has been replaced with a decoy, and now disguises herself as a handmaiden. I have no way to know which is the true Queen."

"This is an unfortunate turns of events," the silk-smooth voice mused. "But not irreparable. She must be made to see sense soon, my apprentice. The daily suffering of her people may not be enough to motivate her."

"I have trapped her in the room with her handmaidens, and refused them food," Maul offered, cringing down as though expecting a blow.

"It is well done," Sidious agreed. "But this must reap results within a few days, or you must try a new angle. It would not do to starve the Queen to death."

"As you say, my Master," Maul agreed subserviently, and the hologram faded out.

* * *

"Master?" Obi-Wan questioned softly. "Why are the Jedi forbidden to love?"

"Jedi are forbidden to grow attached," Qui-Gon said succinctly. "Attachment leads too easily to obsession, and the Jedi become fixated on their obsession, instead of their duty. The Council feels that to love, leads too easily to attachment. Not all of the Jedi share their views," he added, a trifle unnecessarily.

"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan murmured with a bow.

* * *

Maul did not twitch from where he stood, staring out at another of Naboo's lovely sunsets. "Why is it forbidden to care?" he all but whispered.

"It is forbidden for the Jedi to become attached," the Padawan replied, equally softly. "For attachment can lead to dereliction of duty and obsession. But only for Jedi."

"Not for Sith," Maul whispered under his breath.

The two stood in silence for the rest of the night, keeping vigil over the hushed city. As dawn began to break, the Zabrak faded away into the shadows, and the human man turned away to return to his quarters.

* * *

"Your Highness, this is your last chance to sign the treaty, or drastic measures will be taken," the Sith Apprentice said intimidatingly, and pressed a pen into the curly-haired handmaiden's hand.

Her eyes widened, and the "Queen" took an involuntary step forward. "Padmé, no!" she cried. "You can't!"

Padmé wavered a moment, then squarely meeting the hazel eyes of their captor, very deliberately snapped the pen, ornate shards scattering about. "I will not," she said clearly, every inch the monarch in that moment.

Hazel eyes held brown for a long moment, silent communication passing between them. "You must understand, your Highness," he said slowly, voice low and soft and smooth as silk, "that if you do not cooperate, I can guarantee you nothing – not your safety, not that of your friends," his gaze slid to the girls arranged around the room, before returning to his victim, "from any of the other occupiers of Naboo."

"We are aware of the risks," the blonde said arrogantly, tilting her chin.

"Eirtaé's right," the false Queen – who was becoming steadily less queenly, Maul noted with interest – agreed spunkily. "It's what we signed up for, Padmé."

"I will not give in," the Queen – the real one – agreed, with a warm smile for her friends. Maul felt a pang of loneliness. The Force in the room was warm, not hot, eddying slowly instead of swirling in a violent maelstrom, and the Zabrak could not help wondering if this was what it was like to be loved.

"As you wish, your Highness," he acquiesced, his quiet tone sounding much more subdued and much less dangerous. Turning, he exited the room.

* * *

It was not but a few more hours before the Jedi discovered the room where the royal entourage were being imprisoned. Maul watched as the starship peeled up out of the atmosphere at reckless speeds, a woman's voice playing in his head. "_Please, take him. If he stays, he will be a slave – I would not have that for my son._" As the garishly yellow Nubian vanished, he tilted his face up to the sun, allowing the warm cleansing rays to cascade over him, illuminating and warming him. Activating the lock of his own ship, he swung inside – the Queen had escaped, and his work on Naboo was done. His "Master" would be displeased with his failure to subjugate the small stubborn queen, but there was another, who just might approve...

* * *

**This was originally supposed to be a Padmaul fic, (cause, y'know, that's just how I ship,) but it's turned into something simultaneously so much more, and so much less. I think I'm going to have to extend it, but for now, I'll post it here. Yeah, call it self-advertisement.**

**Disclaimer/credit time: I've never read the novel Darth Plagueis, so, apologies for the incorrect dialog. Still not allowed to read the EU. :/ Hope it doesn't stroke you the wrong way too badly. And - I kinda borrowed the handmaidens' personalities from AwayOHumanChild, a truly brilliant author who is in the process of redoing the prequels from Sabé's point of view. Truly worthwhile reads. And no plagiarism intended!**


	73. Come to the Dark Side

"Are you sure this is wise, my Master?" Vader asked dubiously, surveying the copious amounts of white powder that were already starting to cover every available inch of surface. "You are certain it will work?"

"Do not worry, my friend," the Emperor said gleefully, dabbling happily in the beaten eggs residing in the bowl in front of him. "Cookies have yet to fail me, and, if you recall, I had many apprentices before you. Dear Dooku was quite fond of Snickerdoodles," he reminisced. Catching his current apprentice's scowl through the Force, he peered at the black-clad behemoth in amusment. "If I remember aright, you're very fond of shuura-nut goodies," he added pointedly.

Vader sulked, reaching out and squeezing an egg until the gooey inside ran over his leather gauntlet. "Yes, my Master," he mumbled. "What are your orders?"

"Hand me that bag of sweetsand," Palpatine said, tone turning from indulgent remembrance, to bossy. "Young Skywalker is a simple soul, so we'll start with something simple. If sweetsand cookies don't work, then we'll try chocolate chip. It's another classic."

"Yes, my Master," Vader echoed obediently, passing over the heavy flimsi sack. "Are we making them both now?"

"I don't see why not," Palpatine replied cheerfully. "Here, Jerjerrod, hand me that whisk!"

"Yes, your Highness," the Moff simpered, presenting the utensil to the Emperor.

Vader tilted his helmet, peering at the recipe on the datapad. "What should I do?" he repeated glumly.

"Start on the chocolate chip cookies," the Sith Master ordered, and busied himself at his mixing bowl.

* * *

"Guards, leave us," the Emperor ordered, the Force ringing with his suppressed glee. Finally, he would have his next apprentice! The same method that had won him all his others, would now win the next generation of Skywalkers. "Ah, young Skywalker," he added, standing and retrieving some small round disk from a platter hidden in the shadows behind his throne. "Allow me to offer you something." Approaching the young Jedi, he held the object out.

Luke peered at it, not reaching up to take it. "A... cookie?" he repeated, mystified and suspicious.

"My best recipe," Palpatine bragged, and held it out. "Here." Luke obediently reached out for it, but the Emperor yanked it back. "Ah-ah-ah," he reproved. "You have to join the Dark Side to get it!"

Luke looked between the two Sith Lords. "Are you serious?" he demanded incredulously. "_That's_ the line you're feeding me?"

"It is the only way, my son," Vader intoned sonorously. "You must accept your destiny."

"You're trying to get me to turn by offering me a cookie," Luke confirmed flatly.

"They're worth it," Vader offered feebly.

"You're _wearing a mask,_" Luke pointed out, staring at his father in disbelief.

There was a pause, the respirator cycling twice before Vader responded. "...and?"

"A _mask you can't take off,_" the young man continued, the disbelief in his voice heightening.

Another long pause. "...and?"

"You can't even have the cookies!" Luke exclaimed.

"I know," his father replied. "But they were worth it when I could."

"But you can't," Luke pointed out patiently. "So why are you still on the Dark Side?"

Another long pause. "I... don't know," Vader admitted.

"Here, now," Palpatine interrupted, not liking where this conversation was going. "These cookies are truly excellent. And it is your destiny to turn."

"I dunno..." Luke said doubtfully, examining the cookie. "I like mine soft and chewy, this looks a little on the dark side." Vader and Palpatine glowered, but he blithely ignored them both. "Could I try it without having to turn? I don't know if it's worth it."

The Emperor hadn't become the galaxy's most successful politician without being able to recognize when to compromise. "Very well, you may _try_ the cookie," he agreed, breaking it in half and handing half to the boy.

"Thank you," Luke said cheerfully, and nibbled the cookie, brushing the crumbs off on his pants. "Hm," he murmured musingly, pondering the pastry. "I just don't know," he said pettishly after swallowing, and gave Palpatine puppy-akk eyes. "Could I try more?"

"Very well," the Emperor snapped bad-temperedly, and handed the other half of the cookie to young Skywalker.

Luke shook his head after eating that piece too. "I just don't know," he repeated with a sigh. "I have barely any experience with cookies, it would be better if Leia or one of the others could advise me."

"Why don't you take some and ask them?" Palpatine asked, with the delighted air of a man hitting on an observably brilliant idea. "I have plenty."

"That's a great idea!" Luke exclaimed brightly. "That's what I should do!"

"Excellent, excellent," Palpatine approved, folding his hands together and turning back to his throne.

* * *

A hologram flared to life on the bridge of every Imperial cruiser – and every Rebel cruiser tuned in to Imperial channels – and forwarded on to the dogfighting snubs outside. "Attention, all Imperial forces," the cowled figure announced. "This is your Emperor speaking. You will disengage long enough to allow my new apprentice to reconvene with his pitiful band of Rebel friends, and they will be permitted time to conference together until he returns to me. Once he is safely back aboard the Death Star, you may resume shooting the Rebels."

The hologram flickered out, and shrugging Imperial captains ordered withdrawals and retreats from the battle outside. Slowly, ponderous guns fell silent and still, and the panorama took on an eerie quality as the massive ships floated slowly in space. TIEs and Rebel fighters circled each other warily, as an unobtrusive Lambda shuttle slipped through the spaceborne forest of durasteel.

On the bridge of Home One, Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar, General Madine, and the other of the Alliance High Command turned as the door opened. Bedraggled and weary, Princess Leia and General Solo staggered in. "Where's Luke?" Leia demanded breathlessly, eyes fearful.

"Not here, Princess," Mon Mothma replied somberly.

As the doors slid apart again, everyone turned to face the newcomer. A blond, black-clad young man wearing a beaming smile held up a large, brown-flimsi bag that bulged slightly. "Hey everyone, I brought refreshments!"

* * *

**Hello, everyone! Long time no see, no? I won't be writing nearly as much (and I won't be getting any sleep when I do!), but when I do, I will be mostly posting one shots not in Toss. So if you want to see my writing, you're going to have to follow me, instead of Toss. If you only like this series, that's fine too. =) But a lot of my better stuff won't be here.  
**

**All that aside - and I'm really not sure why I'm saying this except that it seems to be the thing to do - my first crackfic! Poor Palpatine, I almost feel sorry for him... but I REGRET NOTHING! :D**

**And I really like this section. =)**


	74. Discovered

Créche masters and lightsaber instructors moved among the older Initiates, pairing up sparring partners and handing out training sabers. A young brunette girl with a green saber stood still, sizing up her opponent – a redheaded boy wielding a sky-blue blade. "I'm Shmi," the girl introduced herself. "Who are you?"

The boy lifted his head proudly. "Sheev Palpatine, of House Palpatine, of Naboo," he replied with more than a hint of arrogance.

"That's quite the pedigree," Shmi said calmly, unfazed. Young Sheev's interest in her heightened – she must be quite intelligent to be able to use such an uncommon word so easily. Perhaps she was his equal in birth, even.

"Where are you from?" he asked with a condescending smile.

"I think I was born a slave," she replied, perfectly serene. "I remember fear, and a cruel man, and a sad woman. And then the woman was happy, and I was gone."

"A slave?" The boy stared the other youngling, appalled. How could anyone, even a Jedi, accept such a thing so easily? At least he knew his parents weren't property!

"Yes," she agreed, retaining her unperturbed demeanor for several moments while he grappled with horror. After some very long seconds, young Shmi added, perfectly deadpan, "One day, I'll free her."

"I'll help you," Sheev offered impulsively but decisively.

The smile she gave him was much more genuine than the first exchanged. "Thank you," she said simply.

A battlemaster's voice rang out over the soft murmur of younglings' conversations. "Begin!"

* * *

"Padawan Palpatine! Padawan Skywalker! What are you two doing?" The two broke apart, staring guiltily at the tower of fury bearing down on them.

As Sheev struggled for an answer, a serene voice cut through the fog of panic. "We're practicing the traditional greeting of many cultures and societies, Master."

The male Padawan turned to gape, shocked at the all-too-innocent – and far too ready – answer. Master Dooku did not look amused, either. "From now on, you will limit such practice to when it is assigned. Come, Padawan Palpatine," he snapped, and swept off. Sheev cast a mortified glance at Shmi before emerging from the alcove to trot after the Master.

Dooku waited until his Padawan was in his proper place before speaking. "You are aware attachment is forbidden a Jedi, Padawan."

"Yes, Master."

"And that affection is frowned upon."

"Yes, Master."

"I expect to never find you kissing girls again."

"Yes, Master."

* * *

"Sheev!" A sharp squeal made him turn, a tan-and-brown juggernaut made him stumble. It resolved into a young woman with short, tied-bad brown hair and shining eyes, dangling something long and skinny way too close to his face. His eyes crossed as he attempted to see it, and Padawan Palpatine took a step back before his face split into a wide smile. Picking her up, he swung her around in a circle before setting her down.

"That's fabulous, Shmi! Or should I call you Knight Skywalker, now?" he teased.

"Shmi, silly," she responded, whacking his arm lightly, before her joy veiled. "I'm sure you'll take the tests soon – I don't know why you haven't been allowed to, yet."

He shrugged philosophically. "When I'm ready, I'm ready, and not before."

* * *

"Congratulations, Sheev. You'll be a great Master."

"I don't know why they haven't had you take a Padawan yet – you're so patient and kind, you'd make a truly great Master. I'm afraid I'm too callous."

"Don't be stupid, you're not callous. Remember Zygerria? But it's good that you're concerned about being too uncaring – it means you'll take pains not to be."

"You're wise, too. Really, you should ask if you can take one."

"Oh, I don't want a Padawan. I think I'm going to be a healer, actually."

"Oh. ...well, you'll be good at that, too. But I was really hoping we'd be assigned together, sometime."

"Don't worry, I'll patch you up when you get back all torn up."

"Stop laughing at me, Shmi."

* * *

"We'll be expelled, when they find out." Sheev watched as Shmi paused in brushing her hair, looking at him in the mirror of the guest suite.

"Do you care?" she asked quietly.

He smiled, taking her hand and gently turning her around before kissing it. "No."

She laid down the hairbrush, moving forward and looping her arms loosely about his neck. "Neither do I."

Knight Palpatine nodded. "I'll find a cleric, as soon as we finish with business."

"What about Padawan Maul?" the other Knight reminded him.

Sheev waved an airy hand. "I'll send him out to get some cultural exposure for the day."

"You're so devious," she teased, pulling out of the embrace and picking up the hairbrush again.

The redhead grinned devilishly. "I know."

* * *

Dooku favored his former Padawan with a rare genuine smile, as Yoda made clear the reason for calling Knight Palpatine in front of the Council. "Ready to be made a Master, you are, young Sheev," the old Grand Master announced joyfully.

"With respect, Master Yoda, I disagree," Palpatine said mildly.

Yoda's ear perked. "Hmm?" he hummed inquiringly.

"I'm married," the errant Knight replied blandly, ignoring as his Master's smile turned to a stormy frown.

"Unexpected, this is," Yoda mused, peering beadily at the young man. "Who is your spouse?"

Palpatine hesitated only momentarily. "Knight Skywalker, Master," he replied respectfully.

"Meditate on this, we must," Yoda murmured, and waved one hand. "Dismissed, you are." The Knight bowed and exited.

* * *

"It's a boy. We'll name him Anakin." Sheev looked up, startled, to see his wife leaning against the doorframe, eating a yogurt, and looking fiercer than he'd ever seen her.

"Alright, it's a boy," he said meekly. "And Anakin is a lovely name." Shmi nodded decisively and disappeared. Senator Palpatine of Naboo returned his attention to his datapad, but not before whispering (where his swollen wife couldn't hear him,) "It's a girl."

* * *

"Congratulations, Sheev." He stopped his frantic (not frantic, he was a Jedi, even if he wasn't anymore, he was not frantic) pacing and turned at the sound of his mother-in-law's voice. The older woman smiled at him, her warm kindness framed by a baby's reedy wail from the room behind her. "It's a boy, and they're both fine."

The Jedi-cum-Senator sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands. "Thank the Force," he breathed, then lifted his head and gave a crooked smile. "Anakin," he added wryly, and Shmi's mother laughed.

"Yes," she agreed. "Rest a few moments, I'll come get you once they're both cleaned up and ready for visitors."

Sheev Palpatine let his head fall back against the wall with a thump. "Thank the Force," he repeated, softly but fervently. The baby's – Anakin's – whimpering stopped, and the new father felt his heart swell with love for his family.

* * *

**A/N: This one's for the fabulously talented DarthRuinous, because she wanted Shmipatine as Initiates together. Sorry for any mistakes herein - I have a tendency to write at midnight and later.  
**


	75. In Which Palpatine Makes a Friend

Newly-elected Chommel-sector Senator Palpatine wandered with the rest of the new Senators, led on a tour of the Jedi Temple by some Master or other. The man's pale blue eyes darted about sharply, taking in the sculptures, friezes, and architecture. Knowledge, especially of one's enemy, was power, and power was everything – when he completed the destruction of the Jedi and their piffling Temple, he wanted to know what to keep for himself and what to destroy. Ignoring the eager, inane questions of his colleagues – for they were nowhere near his fellows – the Nubian senator tightened his shields to protect against the revolting touch of the Light and beamed gently beatific smiles upon the curious Knights and Padawans who happened to glance in his direction.

Growing weary of the company of the small-minded politicians and deplorably weak Jedi surrounding him, Palpatine slowly dropped back out of the group. Finding himself alone in a vast, imposing marble corridor overlooking one of the Temple's many gardens, he stopped to lean over the rail and look down at the haven of peace and life below. A sneer twisted his lips, the urge to send out a subtle film of Darkness tempting him for a moment before, with the durasteel will of the true Sith, he dismissed the desire. It would not do to accidentally reveal himself before the proper time. Sighing with jaded weariness, he turned away from the repulsive tranquility spread below, intending to return to the group of Senators.

But what was this? A delicious thread of pain, of discord, wafted past as a tempting aroma like that of his favorite tea. Turning back, he observed a human youngling of no more than two Standard years toddling into the garden, small face screwed up in a valiant effort not to cry. How delightful, Palpatine mused as his feet carried him down to the garden. Perhaps the day would not be entirely unpleasant after all.

The child looked up at his approach, sniffling. "What is the matter, little one?" the man asked, projecting his well-practiced air of benevolent concern.

"Clissa's gone," the child whimpered. "She's moved up and now I'll never see her again and I'm not supposed to care-" Finally losing the battle against tears, the little boy broke down completely, wailing his misery.

Another example of the Jedi incompetency and unnaturalism, Palpatine reflected as he automatically patted the youngling's back. Denying such emotions as attachment – unbefitting a Sith Lord, unarguably, but natural and necessary to lesser beings – could only, and only did, lead to trouble.

Apparently encouraged by the Senator's sham of compassion, the youngling threw himself into the startled man's arms. Palpatine staggered slightly, eyes widening in surprise and mild alarm. He'd had many unique experiences, but holding a crying Jedi crechling had not numbered among them – until now. Making a face of distaste, he looked about for someone on whom to deposit the revolting creature.

Seeing no caretaker about, he accepted the unchangeable and gingerly seated himself on a convenient stone, setting the boy on his lap. "Now, I'm sure the Masters mean well," he lectured gently. As much as he was enjoying the boy's discontent, he did not want the Jedi detecting it and asking nosy questions. The Force had a strange sense of humor, he pondered darkly, making it so that he should have to comfort a crying Jedi youngling in order to avoid detection. Which didn't he mean couldn't sow a few seeds to develop in the future…

"But I want her!" the youngling whimpered, burying his face in the rich red shimmersilk robes.

Palpatine sighed, rubbing circles on the boy's back and looking around again for someone to relieve him of his burden. Seeing no worried créch master hovering about, the Senator-elect rose with another sigh, holding the sniffling youngling and walking towards the doorway through which the boy had entered the garden. Wandering down the hallway, he peered into empty room after empty room, seeking someone on whom he could dump the creature.

The small boy, all cried out, snuggled into the friendly arms that held him, looking up at the pale lined face. "I like you," he lisped. "You're nice."

Palpatine stopped short, staring in consternation at the wiggling bundle. "Oh… er… that's..." He paused, mind racing, wondering how he could turn this to his advantage-

"Will you be my friend?" the little one piped up hopefully, shining, tearful face upturned.

Palpatine sighed, patting the small head. "Yes, child, I'll be your friend," he answered in resignation.

"Good." The tiny tyrant sat up straight, pointing at the garden. "Let's go play!"

Turning, the man trudged back in the direction he'd just come, wondering how he got roped into these things. "What do you want to play, my little friend?" he asked with false joviality.

"Jedi and Sith," the little one chirped, and a jolt of alarm zapped through the man. How had the youngling found out?

Worried brown eyes peered up at him, and he realized that it was merely a youngling's dreams of grandiose adventures. Covering his rush of relief with a mild smile, Palpatine murmured, "I'm not sure I know how to be a Sith, my young friend."

"Don't worry, I'll show you," the boy said unconcernedly, and the Sith Lord suppressed a laugh.

"You do that," he agreed, letting the boy slide to the ground.

Playing 'Sith and Jedi' turned out to mostly be waving sticks at each other and shouting – or simply speaking aloud – mindless challenges. It was an intriguing glimpse into a simple world Palpatine had never entered, and despite himself, he found himself enjoying the silliness. When, several hours later, the two sat down beneath a tree and the exhausted youngling curled up against his new friend, the Senator found that strangely, he didn't object. Stroking the silky head lying against him, he closed his eyes to rest and enjoy the breeze, tentatively wondering if maybe, just maybe, not all Jedi were entirely contemptible.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted by an overly-relieved, "Senator Palpatine, _there_ you are! We have been most anxious to find you!"

Scowling, and wishing a lingering death on whatever interfering Knight had disturbed his peace, Palpatine lifted his head. Upon seeing his former guide, he schooled his features into an expression of greater pleasantness. "I fear I dallied overlong in a corridor," he confessed. "I became intrigued by your garden, here."

"I see you have found our little runaway, too," the Jedi said upon spotting the small form, chagrined. "I am sorry you have been stuck babysitting all afternoon!"

"It was..." The Senator considered for a moment. "A pleasure," he finished, surprising himself with the truth.

"Still, I'm sorry you had to," the Knight apologized again, and the Sith Lord had to make a conscious effort to keep his fingers from twitching and sending out sparks.

"It is no matter," he said with forced geniality. "But I believe he is quite tired, perhaps he should go in now."

"The créche Master is on her way," the Knight assured him.

Moments later, a young yet matronly blue Twi'lek appeared, clucking softly when she saw the tiny human youngling. She knelt beside Palpatine, tenderly disentangling the little boy, who woke upon being moved. Sleepily entwining his arms around her neck, he peered over at Palpatine. "Thank you for playin' with me," he murmured. "I have to go now."

"I know." Palpatine brushed back the soft brown hair, ignoring his stained, twisted robes. "Good-bye, my little friend," he murmured.

"Thank you for seeing to him," the Twi'lek murmured, voice slightly accented – not obsequious, though, like her compatriot was being, Palpatine noted. Turning away, she carried off the sleeping youngling. The Senator looked down at himself, working on making his robes presentable again.

"If you wish to continue the tour..." The Knight began, perceptibly reluctant, but Palpatine waved him off.

"No, my good Knight, no. I chose to forfeit the tour in order to spend time with the little one – for all our imposing architecture and grand treasures, we must not forget what is truly valuable," he said grandly. "If you will show me to the exit, I must take my leave – my aides will be wondering where I am."

"Right this way," the Jedi said, leading their guest out of the garden and through marble halls. As Palpatine descended the vast staircase to the air taxi waiting below, his devious mind was already turning to the next stage in his plan for galactic domination, the small Jedi already slipping into the recesses of memory.


	76. Memories

Darth Sidious wandered the halls of the Jedi Temple. It had been a week since the slaughter, and while the smoke had cleared, the residual Darkness remained – the billows that were a newly-turned Sith Lord, the horror, shock, and despair of the inhabitants echoed. The bodies were gone, removed, burned en mass, but to those who could see through the Force, their memories would remain for awhile. Sidious stopped in an imposing marble hall, peering down the length at the Jedi who had died there – mostly younglings, a Knight, two Padawans. At his feet lay a tiny Togruta female, staring up at him blankly. He knelt, reaching out to brush her fledgling montrals, but his hand passed right through the insubstantial vision.

The Sith allowed himself a faint cackle, slightly intoxicated by his victory. Neither anticipation, nor years of planning and waiting, had stolen the savor of his great triumph – on the contrary. Again, he drank in the lingering despair in the Force. A faint whisper made him turn, looking down into what was once a garden. Lush grass had been trampled into churned-up mud, shrubs and trees reduced to mere ash, save for a single twisted trunk with gnarled branches. Something in the former garden called to the Sith Lord, and he turned and exited the hall.

Stepping onto the hardened dirt, Sidious paced slowly along, waiting for the reason he was here. A faint ripple in the Force caused him to turn, his eyes falling on a tiny human youngling of no more than two Standard years, face screwed up in a valiant effort not to cry. "What's the matter, small one?" the old man asked, kneeling in front of the youngling.

"He – he took Clissa, and now I'll never see her again," the boy whimpered, tears running down his ghostly cheeks.

"She is one with the Force now, is she not?" the Emperor asked reasonably, mockingly.

"The Force is screaming in pain," the young one whispered, eyes wide and haunted.

Sidious grinned fiendishly at the thought that the Light Side might, indeed, be screaming at the abrupt loss of all its slaves, and the fact that the Jedi recently gone to join it would feel the same pain. His attention was returned to Coruscant at a soft sob. "I thought you were my friend." He looked back at the boy, who stared at him in utter betrayal. "I should never have taught you how to be a Sith," the Jediling whispered. "I wouldn't have died."

Tenderly as any mother with her babe, the old man reached out to wipe the tears from the youngling's face, his hand phasing through the ghostly cheeks. "You shouldn't have been a Jedi, my young friend," he murmured. "Had they not stolen you, you would not now be dead."

The boy simply stared at him with wide eyes too large for a tiny pale face. "Why did you do it?" he whimpered, even as he faded from sight.

"It was, regrettably, necessary." Palpatine stood, glancing about absently before looking at the remnants of the tree under which he and the youngling had rested so many years ago. He reached out with the Darkness, feeling for the life force of the vegetation. Gone, gone, gone – there. A faint shrinking away from his poisoned touch. Reaching up with a tendril of the Force, he snapped off a single branch with a harsh crack, summoning it to himself. Running his hands over the wood, he examined it – gnarled and bent and twisted, barely alive, but resilient. Once the ash was cleaned off, it would make the perfect cane for an aging Sith Lord.

His purpose in the garden completed, the Emperor exited, treading along a well-remembered path. As he descended the marble steps of the once-proud Temple, his mind was already turning to the dominion of his new Empire.

* * *

**I confess - I have blatantly stolen Palpatine's characterization from DarthRuinous. At this point, we're happily ripping each other off in what is probably going to be a never-ending cycle...**

**Regarding the previous section, it was pointed out to me that Palpatine was appointed as Senator, not elected, and I forgot to modify that before I published it. Sorry. :S**

**If you enjoyed these two sections, you should check out my latest (non-Toss of the Coin-published) stories, and/or DarthRuinous' work. (She's much better than I am, anyway, but - usually - much darker.)**


	77. Redhead Alliance

The Chancellor stared absently out the vast panoramic viewport at the city so soon to be his, allowing himself an uncustomary sneer in the solitude of his office. Sate had escorted his most recent visitor to the door, not yet returned – possibly the pestiferous Senator was detaining his aide, taking up the man's valuable time. The sneer turned more contemptuous yet, as the fair face and ornately styled red hair swam before his mind's eye. Mon Mothma, Senator from Chandrila, had long stood as a thorn in the Sith Lord's side, an annoyance to his plans.

He swiveled from the impressive view, lifting from his desk the datapad she had left, activating the screen and glancing over the long lines of text. Her heart was, to use the vernacular, in the right place – too much so. Her dedication to the people of the galaxy was impressive – impressively sickening. _So naive_, he mused, perusing the presented resolution. _She genuinely believes that this system works, that she's actually helping the galaxy. If only…_

But 'if only's were not productive lines of thought. Setting aside the vapid bill, Palpatine allowed himself to sink into meditation, reaching for the Dark. _Show me the future_, he commanded – and as always, the Dark obeyed. Stretching forth his will, the Sith Lord took control of his visions, calling up all that involved the persistent Senator.

Surfacing from his meditation some minutes later, Palpatine mused over what he had seen with some surprise. Mothma would be one of the last he'd suspect of being a willing tool – if not ever a dupe – but her philanthropic love for the common being, currently such a source of irritation, could indeed be turned to his designs. A cold smirk graced the face of the Sith Lord, greeting his favorite aide as Sate Pestage entered a moment later.

"I cannot wait until we destroy such chattel, Excellency," the lesser man said by way of greeting.

"You must restrain yourself a little longer, my friend," Palpatine replied silkily. "The good Senator may yet prove useful." The smirk turned into a full-blown predatory grin at Pestage's open astonishment.

* * *

Mon Mothma stirred her drink serenely, pondering the abundance of information so recently piled upon her. Across the table, glowing yellow eyes examined her minutely, awaiting the reaction that would save or end her miserable existence. Each future held roughly the same amount of probability, and Darth Sidious found himself genuinely interested – mildly, but authentically – in the outcome of his and the Chandrilan Senator's private conversation.

She had taken the news of the Republic's beloved Chancellor being a Sith Lord with merely paling, eyes widening minutely, and his plans of bringing about an Empire without a flicker of her attentively polite expression. The crafty Sith Lord allowed himself a moment's secret admiration of the woman's self-composure – he could think of thousands of Senators, including Amidala, who would've gone into hysterics at such disclosures, but Mothma took it all with admirable aplomb.

The redheaded female returned his gaze after several moments' thought, voice even and steady when she spoke. "I confess I wonder why you informed me of all this, Excellency – or is it my lord?"

"Excellency will suffice," he replied magnanimously.

Mothma dipped her handsome head and continued. "I should not think it necessary to inform me of your intentions before you kill me – and perhaps I have a live mic on now."

"You do not," Palpatine replied smugly. "I ensured it when you entered – and you did not wear one, anyway," he added keenly, eying her closely. Folding his hands, he favored her with an unpleasant smile. "As for allowing you knowledge of my plan, I daresay you can draw your own conclusions..." He trailed off, leaving the end of the sentence suggestively open.

Mothma didn't even blink, the faintest trace of contempt entering her tone. "The pleasure of gloating, I suppose, before eliminating an irritation."

Palpatine indulged a momentary fantasy of discarding his previous scheme, simply letting this sanctimonious woman wallow in the knowledge of the annihilation of all she worked for before terminating her meaningless life. But his future Empire could do well with such a female serving him, and he regretfully let the fantasy pass. "As enjoyable as such an exercise is, my dear, it has its own time and place, and this is not it. No, Senator Mothma, I present to you a choice." He paused, gauging her reaction.

"A choice," she echoed, unimpressed. An internal smile reflected the condescending smirk with which he favored her. A woman with this courage could indeed do well at his side.

"Yes, indeed," he said pleasantly. "I daresay you are already well aware of your inevitable fate, should you not take the position I am going to offer you," he finished significantly. Mothma folded her hands in her lap and watched him, waiting. "A position in my new Empire," he continued smoothly, reaching out to refill both their drinks. His opposite raised a dubious eyebrow, glancing momentarily at the glass before returning her steady gaze to his face. "A position on my ruling council," Palpatine continued persuasively, voice lower, pinning her with his amber stare. "Power, to help shape the galaxy, as you see fit."

"Really," Mothma said skeptically. "As tonight seems to be one for being open, Excellency, I shall be plain. I do not believe that anyone on your future… _ruling council_, will have any voice at all to disagree with you without their lives, at least, being forfeit."

Palpatine spread his hands disarmingly. "I am, if I may say it myself, a great man, but even I cannot rule the galaxy entirely on my own. I shall need advisers, and the advice of some will certainly have more weight in my decisions than others." He smiled sharply at her. "I am giving you the chance to be one of those."

Mothma considered him a long moment, shields surprisingly strong for a non-Force-sensitive. Not nearly strong enough to keep the Sith Lord out, though, and he drank greedily of her inner turmoil as of an excellent wine. A long minute passed as her emotions slowly settled, dismay and determination giving no hint of her decision. The Force stirred, whispering, the Dark swirling eagerly between the two combatants, hissing encouragement and threats in turn.

"At what price?" the Senator asked finally, composed tone keeping her counsel close.

Palpatine smiled suavely. "Your complete loyalty."

* * *

The Emperor stood in his private office, contemplating the city spread below him. His city, now. A shadow slipped into the office behind him, coming to stand at his left shoulder, watching the lights and movement below them. They stood in silence a moment before the monarch broke the silence. "Impressive, isn't it. All mine, to do with as I will."

A woman's soft voice answered, tired, but bereft of the heavy disapproval that had so long marked it. "All living, breathing beings with hopes, and dreams, and fears, and passions of their own."

"Insignificant to me," Palpatine rejoined heatlessly.

"Not to me," the woman countered, turning slightly to face him.

"It is well for them that they have you," he observed mildly, faint curiosity and derision entering his voice. "They hate you so, and yet you champion them with no less fierceness than in the days of the Republic."

"They do not know my role," Mon Mothma replied evenly, but he felt the flicker of her hurt beneath her calm demeanor, and smiled to taste it. "I am perceived as a traitor."

"You could inform them of the truth." He turned to face her, searching her visage, serene as ever. "Yet you do not."

"It is better if I do not," she replied, looking away and back at Coruscant. Her startled gaze snapped back to the Emperor as he took her hand gently in his, raising it to his lips and pressing a brief kiss to the top before covering it with his free hand.

"Better for who, my dear?" he asked lightly.

Mothma swallowed, dropping her gaze. "For everyone."

Palpatine smiled to himself, watching her intently until she met his eyes again. "If they already see you as a villain, perhaps it is time to reinforce the idea in their minds, a little more forcefully," he suggested softly. The woman swallowed again, slowly curling her fingers around his, eyes still downcast. A gentle, triumphant smile spread across the Emperor's features.

Two weeks later, the birth of the Empire was almost upstaged as the Event of the Century. The Emperor's wedding to the former Senator of Chandrila, and her subsequent coronation as Empress, rocked the galaxy to its already shaken core. The rumor mills went crazy – she'd seduced him, it was a purely political marriage, they were madly in love, he'd seduced her, it was a deal, she was being forced unwillingly into an unhappy union… there were almost as many rumors as tabloids, and the various theories were hotly debated in public and private. The observation of his coldness towards his new bride, and her habitual composition, led towards a general opinion of a political pact between the two.

In the following years, more than one denizen of the galaxy revisited that theory.

* * *

**This one is dedicated to the talented and lovely DarthRuinous, whose friendship and support has sustained, and is sustaining, me through an exceptional difficult time - and who coerces me into writing when I have neither time nor energy. If the boss finds out about this, Ru, I swear I will come back and haunt you forever.  
**


	78. Meet the Palpatines

The Emperor stood at the vast panoramic viewport, looking out at the city spread below and around him. Behind the lone figure, the door whispered open, a single being coming to stand at his left shoulder, gaze also directed outwards. The two stood in silence for a long moment before the Emperor stirred. "Magnificent, isn't it, my dear. All ours, to do with as we please."

The woman slipped her arm through his, stepping a tiny bit closer, and he wrapped his hand slowly around hers. "You have truly led the galaxy to a better place," she murmured in agreement, staring down at the bustle of beings below with almost maternal protectiveness.

"We, my dear." Her husband turned to face her, loosing their arms to take both her hands in his. Aqua eyes met blue, and the two shared a smile.

"You," Mon contradicted gently. "I have stood beside you, but you are the one who has led us. The greatness of the Empire – all the credit is yours. None of this would be, if it weren't for you."

"You sell yourself short, my dear," Palpatine admonished, reaching out and tucking a stray auburn lock back into the otherwise immaculate coiffure. "Your wisdom and steadiness has wrought much in the building of our realm."

The Empress turned again, to look back out on the city, voice faintly incredulous, faintly sad. "They didn't even care that they have no say. They simply accepted it, and acted as though nothing had changed."

Her husband stood beside her, wearing a trace of a pitying smile. "Few beings have your drive for abstract principles, my dear. As long as nothing changes in their own little world, they care little for such intangible ideas as democracy or freedom."

The former senator sighed, bowing her head. "You were right all along."

The cool pity in the cool blue eyes sharpened slightly, as the Emperor glanced at his wife. "Do not be so disheartened, my dear. You are not entirely alone in your devotion to principles and people."

"It is pointless, though," Mon said, with a small shake of her head. "If the people do not care about democracy, it cannot survive."

"Obviously," the Emperor said with a slight smirk, gesturing simultaneously towards the viewport, and the Imperial symbol that decorated the wall beside it. Mon dipped her head in tired agreement.

"Obviously," she echoed, then added, "But under your reign, we have come to a better place than where the Republic was taking us."

The conversation was ended there by a patter of feet, a door hastily hurled open, and two tiny redheaded figures tearing inside to chase once around their parents. Mon spun, reaching out and snatching the shoulder of the elder with reflexes honed by motherhood, while Palpatine grasped his son's collar and hoisted the toddler up to dangle at eye-level. "What is the meaning of this?" the two adults demanded simultaneously.

Their example was followed by the next generation, the two younglings babbling at once. "-pushed me-" "-pulled my hair!" "-bit me-" "-broke Clorinda, and-"

"Where is your nurse?" their father demanded sternly, cutting through the tearful hubbub. Both the little prince and princess fell silent, looking intensely guilty. Mon sighed aloud, she and her husband sharing a look before marching their miniature miscreants back towards the door.

"Who deactivated her now?" the mother demanded. An intensely sheepish silence greeted her question, until the father gave a low growl.

"Answer her."

"Aulus," the little princess said miserably.

The boy, still dangling from his father's Force-enchanced grip, nodded dolefully. "I did."

Palming open the door, Mon ushered her daughter in ahead of them all, followed immediately by her husband and son. Palpatine plopped the boy down on the floor, nodding to the silent, half-dismantled droid. "Fix her. And your sister's doll. Bremé, next time your brother breaks something of yours, speak to your nanny – that is why she is here. _Not_," he pinned them both with a yellow-flecked gaze, "to be dismantled for spare parts when you want to build toys. And do not go dashing about the palace like hoodlums."

"Yes, Father," the two younglings replied in unison, heads hanging a little in shame.

"Endee will have to wait until after dinner," their mother said, glancing at the chrono, and grabbed a tiny hand in each of hers. "Come, you two, I'll wash you up tonight."

Palpatine turned towards the door. "There is a report from Vader I have to finish before dinner, Mon," he said casually, tone remaining perfectly the same as he added, "Oh, and I forgot to tell you earlier, I invited Luke and Leia over for dinner, Dormé will be here soon with them." He finished making good his escape, followed by his wife's incredulous glare and his offspring's squeals of excitement at the prospect of seeing their best friends.

* * *

**A requested sequel. And yes, I shamelessly stole from Ruin. Again. *hides*  
**


	79. Advice

Obi-Wan ducked into the tent, face and Force presence full of more sheer panic than Anakin had ever seen or felt him contain, in over fifteen years of knowing him. He had never really _blurted_ out his words, either, like he did now. "Anakin, I need your help!"

"Of course, Master," Anakin answered automatically, hurrying over to his former teacher and holding the older man's upper arm. "What's wrong?"

"Asajj is pregnant," Obi-Wan groaned, collapsing and burying his face in his hands. "What are we going to do?"

Anakin reeled backwards, beyond stunned. "What?" he gasped. "We? Ventress? _Pregnant? _Obi-Wan, tell me this is some really bad joke..."

"It's not." The older Jedi looked up, swallowing, and added desperately, "I was hoping, since you and Padmé are… you know… together, you'd have some experience with this, know what to do..."

"We're married," Anakin corrected automatically, sitting down with a thump. "When did you find out, and where is she now?"

"She just came to my tent and told me," Obi-Wan sighed. "She's over there now, warming up and drying off..."

A clone in the armor of the 212th ducked into the tent, at that moment – a clone with a surprisingly strong Force presence. Ventress removed the orange-marked helmet, regarding Anakin with hostility and wariness. "Skywalker," she greeted finally, sounding unenthused. "We meet again."

"Ventress," he replied with as much politeness as he could muster, before turning back to Obi-Wan. "Padmé and I have no children, so no, I don't have any experience with it." He glanced back at the Sith Assassin as she settled cross-legged beside Obi-Wan. "Mind telling me how all this-" he gestured at the two of them "-came about?"

The two miscreants shared a somewhat guilty glance – that was also so full of mush Anakin wanted to retch. The only two people who had any right to look at each other that way were he and Padmé. It also seemed to rob them both of words. "Hello?" the impatient Knight prodded.

Ventress shrugged. "It just sort of… did," she replied.

Obi-Wan nodded agreement. "There was no real cut-off line between when we loved each other, and didn't. We just… did."

Anakin stared at them both, before saying flatly, "What about Dooku."

"Sent him my resignation comm yesterday," Ventress answered with a smirk. "Not face-to-faec, obviously."

"Obviously," Anakin echoed, and shook his head. "So, what, you're changing sides now?"

Her face hardened. "No," she spat out. "Never. I'm getting out of the war entirely – I won't endanger our child." Obi-Wan put his arm around her, and Anakin worked to suppress his gag reflex.

"Well, that lets out getting Padmé to work on amnesty for you," he said in resignation, before a sudden thought make him brighten. "Altho-ough… how do you feel about sand and heat?"

* * *

Owen Lars grabbed Anakin Skywalker's arm, dragging him away from the two women and Jedi. "Are you out of your mind?" he hissed in disbelief. "We can barely support ourselves – how are we going to support a mother and infant?"

"I'll make sure you receive payment," Anakin promised. "I'll fix and clean all your vaporators before I leave, and I'll send you droids to help out. As long as you keep them in working order, you'll never have to hire help again."

Owen scowled a moment longer before his expression relaxed. "Fine," he muttered softly, glancing back at the Parwan-thin female speaking to his wife. "We couldn't turn a pregnant woman away anyway..." He scowled. "Although it would be nice if the child weren't being born out of wedlock."

"They're not," Anakin replied, grinning broadly. "Apparently, even droids can perform weddings, if they're captains."

"I shall return for you soon, my sweet," Obi-Wan whispered, leaning his forehead against his wife's. "And I will comm you as often as I possibly can."

Ventress reached up, her touch soft on his beard. "You'd better," she whispered back affectionately. "I'd hate to have to hunt you down again."

Anakin gagged and turned away. "Tell them I'm waiting on the ship," he told his stepbrother and sister-in-law hastily before striding away.

* * *

**This one is for Esterni, who missed my Ani/Obi-shots. =)  
**


	80. Full Circle

The blast doors slammed shut less than a meter in front of him, bringing his egress to an abrupt halt. An evil _whoosh-hiss_ behind him caused him to turn, a sudden pain in his chest at the sight of the towering half-mechanical hulk before him. A bloodshine blade sprang from a black-gloved fist, a voice dark as deep space rumbling from the death's-head mask as the Force trembled with malicious glee. "The circle is now complete. When I left you, I was but the learner – now, _I_ am the Master. And you will die – draw your blade, old man, or I will cut you down where I stand."

Obi-Wan spread his empty hands sadly. "I will not fight you, Anakin. Death is no less than I deserve."

The crimson blade shifted slightly to further illuminate the scene. "Anakin Skywalker is dead," Vader announced. "He burned away in the fires of Mustafar." Dark satisfaction permeated the air as the Jedi openly flinched.

"A deed of mine I have never stopped regretting," Obi-Wan said softly. "He did not deserve such a cruel fate."

"And yet you left him to it," Vader snarled, raising his 'saber for an overhand blow. "A quick death is too good for you, Kenobi."

Obi-Wan hunched, his head bowing, exuding overwhelming grief, regret, shame. "I know," he answered, still so quietly as to be barely heard. "Do with me as you will, Darth – I will not resist."

Behind the mask, Vader's eyes narrowed, and he gestured sharply at the nearest trooper. "Bind him and escort him to my chamber," he ordered. "I will deal with the Reb-" He was cut off at the sound of sublights engaging beyond the door, and the blazing Forceful presences he had felt abruptly dimmed, then vanished. Turning towards the Jedi Master, he raised himself to his full height, staring with menacing silence at the shorter man. "Take him to my chamber," he repeated, voice dripping a venomous promise, before turning and stalking off down the corridor. White armor converged on the passive Jedi, shoving him away off in a different direction.

"Tell me about Padmé," Vader said almost as soon as the door opened. Obi-Wan was manacled to a chair brought in for the specific purpose, a Force-blocking agent already circulating through his bloodstream, a meddroid hovering a few meters away, syringe still extended. "How did she die?"

"Heartbreak. I took her to a space-borne medstation as soon as I could get her there, but there was nothing the medics could do," Obi-Wan said sadly. "Her injuries were superficial at best, nothing nearly fatal. You didn't kill her," he added, instinct telling him the reason for his former apprentice's question.

"I as good as did." The creaking of the leather gauntlet provided a tooth-setting harmony to the sharp bitterness in the Sith's voice. "_Heartbreak..._"

"She did not betray you, Anakin," Obi-Wan all but whispered. "She did not know I was on her ship."

"And that is supposed to comfort me?" Vader raged, as a console exploded. Both of them ignored it. "Supposed to exonerate me from her death? You are as cruel as ever, Obi-Wan." Bitterness had turned to furious condemnation, of former Master and of former apprentice. But Obi-Wan, surprisingly, chose to argue, if mildly.

"No, it is to remove any stain that may remain on her memory," he corrected. "She never sought your defeat – on the contrary, I stowed away of necessity, for she refused to tell me anything."

"Padmé..." It came out a broken keen as Vader collapsed into the middle of his hyperbaric chamber, resting the forehead of his mask on one hand.

Obi-Wan watched the broken man mourning his wife, the old Jedi battling himself before finally speaking. "The babies survived," he finally said, voice barely audible. "Twins, a boy and a girl. She lived long enough to give birth, to name them… Luke, and Leia. Family and family friends took them in and hid them from Palpatine..." He trailed off as Vader's mask lifted.

"The recording from the detention block-" A wave of a black-gloved hand activated a holo of a too-short stormtrooper bursting into a cell and removing his helmet as the prisoner sat up.

"Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?"

"I'm Luke Skywalker, and I'm here to rescue you."

Vader paused the recording, turning to stare hard at Obi-Wan, who nodded in confirmation. "What do I do?" the Sith asked numbly.

"They must be kept hidden from the Emperor," Obi-Wan advised, twisting his hands to try and get some feeling back in them.

"You must help me," Vader demanded.

"Of course I will," Obi-Wan replied. "But that would be a lot easier if I were free..."

Vader stood, looming above his prisoner, regarding him malevolently for a long minute. "Don't make me regret this," he warned, and with a wave of his hand, the manacles fell open. The Jedi looked down at his hands momentarily, rubbing his wrists – and when he looked up, a familiar hilt hovered in his face. "Or this," Vader added, as Obi-Wan took his lightsaber.

"I won't," Kenobi said simply, and smiled at Skywalker.


	81. Early Investments

Senator Palpatine strode towards his lavish apartment, face tight with exhaustion. The bill had passed, but just barely, and it had taken not only his entire political expertise and many favors, but some amount of Force persuasion. For being such mindless creatures, he mused darkly, Senators could certainly prove themselves resilient to mental tampering. As he palmed his door open, he found himself looking forward to the hours of quiet darkness and a good cup of tea.

Instead, he was greeted with blazing lights, and the giggles of excited younglings. Face setting in a scowl, he marched down the hallway to the nursery, stopping in the doorway just in time to prevent a ball the former color of his hair from hitting him in the forehead, the orb hovering a scant few centimeters in front of his upraised right hand. The tiny Zabrak's gestures were clumsy, extravagant, and awkward, but he was least directing the balls with some purpose. The infant human's wild arm movements had an entire cosmos of haphazardly whirling balls pirouetting through the air.

The irritated Sith Lord had no trouble in overriding the younglings' powers, halting the progress of all the playthings. The movement of the Force caught his charges' attention, and he was promptly charged by the older of the two with a squeal of "Masser!" The Zabrak boy wrapped himself around Palpatine's legs as the human drooled a happy greeting. Palpatine tolerated the living bonds for a brief moment before peeling his young protégé off.

"Where is your nanny?" he demanded sternly.

Maul gave him a look of innocence that would've done the most corrupt politician in existence proud, and pointed to a corner. "She got hit by a ball, and bwoke," he replied artlessly, before sticking his hand in his mouth.

Palpatine absently pulled out it before striding over to the droid. "What have I told you about sucking your fingers, Maul?" Leaning over, he found the activation switch and flicked it on.

"-ster Maul, it is time for your bath and then you must go to bed – oh! Master Palpatine!" The droid's voice took on a surprised tone as her photoreceptors focused on him.

"Get them both cleaned up and in bed," he ordered, turning towards the door. "It is over an hour since they should've both been asleep. Use any and all means necessary."

"At once, Master Palpatine," the nanny droid answered obediently, bustling towards the Zabrak youngling, who dodged away. As the Senator exited the nursery, a faint twitch of the Force and a baby's giggle were his only warnings less than a second before a reddish ball collided with the back of his head. The door behind him closed with a fraction more force than strictly necessary.

He was on his second cup of tea, and just beginning to relax, when two large glowing amber orbs appeared in midair. "Master Palpatine?" the nurse droid spoke, unaware of the tension that suddenly reasserted itself in his shoulders.

"What is it?" he hissed, fingers twitching.

The droid remained appalling oblivious. "It is time for you to come tell Anakin and Maul a bedtime story," she replied far too brightly.

"...what?" Palpatine demanded, wondering if tiredness had messed with his hearing.

"You said to use all means possible to get them to bed," the nanny replied with innocent confusion. The Sith Lord restrained himself from annihilating the thing on the spot, reminding himself that buying one was risky enough – he couldn't afford it to be known he was purchasing nanny droids. And with that wretched blonde always snooping around, it was almost guaranteed such a deed would be discovered. Bodies? No problem to deal with. Babies? A little more difficult.

Pulling himself to his tired feet, he greedily sucked up the pain, using it to fuel the Dark which, in turn, he called upon to sustain him as he strolled down the hall to the nursery. Palming open the door, he took in the lowered illumination of the glowpanels, the squirming baby in his crib, and little Maul sitting up, his knees making a tent beneath the sheets. "One story," Palpatine said with a sigh, calling over a holobook with a wave of his hand as he sat in the chair beside Maul's bed.

"Okay," the Zabrak agreed cheerfully, and scooted close to the edge of the bed so he could see the illustrations.

Palpatine got two pages into the holobook before deactivating it in disgust. "Is this what your nanny reads you? Your minds will turn to mush." Getting up, he left the room momentarily, going to his study and lifting one of the ancient, hard-copy volumes from the shelf. Cradling the leather-and-flimsi treasure a moment, he returned to the nursery and resumed his seat, opening the book to near the middle. "It is high time your education in the history of the Sith began," he informed the young Zabrak, paging casually through to find the nearest start of a chapter.

Some three hours later, voice a little hoarse from a long day of debate and then hours of reading aloud, Palpatine closed the book, looking down at his lap. Maul half-sat, half-lay, curled up on his master with a thin line of drool tracing down the fine robes. The baby, in his crib, snored softly, and Maul shifted the tiniest bit but didn't awaken. Sighing softly, Palpatine scooped the young Zabrak up with as little effort as lifting a peko-peko feather, laying him on the bed and tucking the thin legs under the sheet, smoothing it up over the white pajama shirt. "Sleep now, my apprentice," he whispered, tugging a wrinkle out of the pillowcase before dimming the glowlamps almost to complete darkness. "Soon, you too will learn to use the power of the Dark Side to sustain yourself." Glancing over at Anakin, he assured himself the baby was soundly asleep, before exiting the room and gesturing the nurse droid back in with a negligent wave. He had tea to finish.

* * *

**This was in response to a challenge Ru - that is, DarthRuinous - and I have been bouncing off of each other, namely, "is it possible to write a Palpatine fluff fic?" Requirements: Palpatine adopts little!Maul and baby!Ani. This is also a contest, so please go read and review her take, and let us know who you think has a better one! **


	82. Investment Payoff

Palpatine watched impassively as his two newest grandchildren tore around his office, putting their sticky little fingers on everything. Anakin and Padmé, and Maul and Eirtaé – how had the blockade of Naboo gone so dreadfully wrong? His foresight had completely failed him in that instance – assuming that because he was the Sith Lords' father, he would be happy to babysit for them, had dumped their reprehensible offspring on him and gone off on some frivolous date night. The Chancellor now watched the tiny terrors as they thoroughly explored his sanctum, weighing the profits of annihilating the little monsters and driving his apprentices further into the Dark Side against the risks that such an action would turn them both against him at once – a situation he'd prefer to avoid until he attained immortality. That the two upstarts would be punished for this presumptuousness was beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"Take care of your cousins," he said forbiddingly to the older pair. Kyziné, older than her brother by a year, and less than a year younger than the Blockade of Naboo, moved forward to intercept Leia as the toddler made yet another circuit of the office. Bestiel planted himself in front of Luke, capturing the small boy and swooping him up. The half-Zabrak siblings, each with an armful of squirming toddler, turned to face the irritable Sith Lord still seated at his desk. Kyziné, both as the eldest of the group and in honor of the maternal tendencies she'd inherited from her mother, took the lead role.

"It's dinner time soon, they'll get hungry," she stated matter-of-factly, reaching up to bat Leia's curious hands away from the fledgling horns just sprouting on her crown.

"You are capable of finding them something to eat, you know where the kitchen is," he replied dismissively, reaching out to pick up a datapad.

Kyziné waited a beat before replying pointedly, "The droids won't cook for us."

"So cook it yourself." He looked up long enough to give her a condescending glance.

She scowled back, unafraid. He would have to work on that. "We can't. The equipment is designed for droids."

Palpatine reached up, rubbing away a headache that wanted to invade. "Why didn't your parents leave you food when they dropped you off?"

Kyziné cocked the hip on which Leia was perched, pushing tiny hands away from her head again. "Because they thought you were babysitting us," she said with slow deliberation. "Which normally involves taking care of one's wards."

"I had more than enough of that with your fathers," Palpatine noted darkly. "What next, you'll be wanting a bedtime story?"

"Thtowy!" squealed Leia, sliding down the half-Zabrak girl as though she were a greased pole and racing over to Palpatine. The Sith Lord had only time to rear back, eyes widening, before he had a lapful of bouncing, squirming toddler. "Tell uth a thtowy!"

"No." He lifted her up, depositing her unceremoniously on the floor. Kyziné rushed over, scowling again, and picked the little girl back up.

"I'm hungry," Luke announced, squirming to get down. Bestiel tightened his hold on the youngling, looking at Palpatine.

"Please, Grandfather," he asked politely.

"They'll get cranky if they're hungry," Kyziné added, completely negating any good impression her more proper younger brother may have made.

Palpatine pinned her with an unamused look. "I do not appreciate being manipulated, young one. I suggest you remember that."

She shrugged, apparently unconcerned. He fumed silently. "Just giving you fair warning."

He rose to his full height – which unfortunately, was not much above her. By Korriban, when had the girl grown? Ignoring the less-than-desired height difference, he glared down at her, allowing a little yellow to bleed into his eyes. "Once you have all been fed, you will retire to your rooms and stay there," he ordered.

She returned his utterly unimpressed look of earlier and he found himself wondering, nonplussed, what tactics Maul had to take to keep her in line. "Sure, whatever," she agreed, turning towards the door. "As long as we get them fed."

Leia beamed at him over the older girl's shoulder. "Thtowy, Gandpa?" she asked expectantly.

He scowled at her. "For all you are a brat, youngling, you are still an improvement on your cousin."

Kyziné sashayed out into the hall, her voice drifting back to him. "Love you too, Grandad."

Palpatine sighed.

* * *

**By the way, this is totally becoming its own AU spin-off in a separate story. I'm dead when he finds out, but in the meantime, I'm gonna have myself a ball with this cast of characters.**


	83. Always Known

Mon came out, standing beside her young friend. Princess Leia stood looking up at the night sky, tears raining down her porcelain face much as fragments of the Death Star rained down from the stars. "They're all gone, now," the girl murmured. "Father and Mother and… I don't even know who my real parents were."

The graceful redhead watched the daughter of her friends – twice over – for a moment before beginning to speak quietly. "I know your father Bail had you study the life of Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo. She was a great woman, a close friend, kind and generous. Right before she died, she was pregnant…"

"Leia. What do you remember of your real mother, your birth mother?"

She turned her eyes downward as she pondered. "She was… beautiful. Kind, but sad. Why?"

The young man – the Jedi – turned back toward her. "The Force is strong in my family, Leia. My father has it, I have it, my sister has it..."

She smiled up at him, a bright warm white smile. "I know. I've always known. You're a good person, Luke."

Luke gawped at her, totally missing the end of her words, the somber tender mood irrevocably shattered. "What do you mean, _you've always known?_"

"Well, since Yavin," Leia clarified. "Mon told me."

"Why didn't she tell me?" Luke demanded, at a loss.

Leia winced in sympathy. "It was after the destruction of the Death Star. She came out while I was outside, during the celebrations. I was talking about how I didn't even know who my birth parents were. Turns out, she served with our mother in the Senate. Amazing, isn't it? Honestly, Luke, it probably never occurred to her again. Or perhaps she didn't want to burden you with the knowledge – especially after Bespin."

"What did she say she was like? Our mother?" Luke asked wistfully. "I have no memories of her.

Leia took a deep breath, almost reciting. "Our mother was a warrior Queen of Naboo in her youth. When she was older, she served in the Senate. Our father was a Jedi Knight, one of the greatest – Anakin Skywalker." Her tone turned quieter, more somber. "Mon doesn't know why he turned, or how our mother died, but she says it is amongst the greatest tragedies of the Empire."

"Well, there is still good in him, I know it," Luke declared. "I can save our father, Leia, I know I can."

"Maybe so. Maybe not," she replied dryly. "But better you than me trying. May the Force be with you, my brother."

* * *

**I feel like maybe Mon Mothma would be the one person to whom a stressed Bail Organa would spill the whole story.  
**

**Hey guys! :D Remember me? Yeah, I'm married now with a kid on the way. And I've been busy on other storylines - published not in Toss. Some of them are well worth a read, and some of them I'm definitely breaking out of my comfort zone, but inspiration for this one hit me earlier and it's been so long since I published in Toss I had to get it written and out there.**


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